


Always Changing Nothing Changed

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Blood, Blood and gore but not too descriptive, But it all works out trust me, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang!Bonnie and Clyde! AU, Guns, Heart Break, It’s a mess, Law Enforcement, Lots of sexy talk and action, M/M, Probably the most I’ve ever done, Semi Panic Attacks, Sort Of, They’re a Family, They’re in a gang, Thieves and gangs, Things might be a bit confusing, Violence, morally questionable characters, pls forgive me, prisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Feelings are a weakness. Emotions can be used against you.Good thing for them, Wooyoung and Yeosang feel nothing for each other.Absolutely nothing.Wooyoung breaks out of prison and things change. Even as they stay exactly the same.





	1. The More Things Change...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!   
This one might be split a little weird in terms of chapter length but whatcha gonna do I guess!   
I actually had some fun writing this one (even if writing smut is NOT my forte)!   
I don’t know how others will feel about it, but feel free to yell about it at me!   
I hope that everyone has a lovely day and hopefully I can get the next chapter up soon!   
-SS

The handcuffs were cold where they dug into Wooyoung’s skin slightly. 

The air in the prison was cold too. So were the chairs. And the skin of the people who shoved him into another cold room and made him sit an equally cold chair. 

God, what he wouldn’t give for a hot coffee. 

“You guys got any hot chocolate?” Wooyoung called, staring at the two-way mirror on the other wall. He leaned forward, hands caught in the cuffs and an empty table before him. “I’m freezing my buns off- I don’t think a guy with his buns frozen off is going to feel very much like talking!” 

He was met with an expected silence, and he huffed, leaning back in the chair and tilting his head back to stare at the white ceiling. 

“And get some color in here, for God’s sake,” He called without moving. “I feel like I’m in a prison.” 

A door opened quietly. 

“Well, we’d hate to mislead people.” 

Wooyoung lifted his head, grinning at Police Chief Lee who entered, a steaming cup of watery coffee in one hand and a thick file in the other. He was an older man, but still young enough to have more color than grey in his hair. 

“Is that for me?” he asked, beaming and sitting up straight as the police chief took a seat in front of him. 

The man’s expression was unimpressed and unamused. His eyes were hard as flint and his lips set in a permanent scowl that made it seem like he’s just smelled a big pile of shit. 

He took a sip from the cup himself, pointedly. “You think you’ll be doing much drinking with your hands all tied up like that?” Lee questioned, voice stiff and angry. 

Wooyoung shifted his arms, the handcuffs clinking against the metal chair. “Well, I had assumed you would be courteous enough to take them off. I mean- we’re locked in a little metal room. You’re armed-” he nodded to the man’s gun at his hip. “And I’ve got nothing but these cuffs. Surely, you can really find me a threat?” He blinked innocently.

“All of Ateez is a threat,” the chief spat, sitting the coffee down harshly. “I don’t doubt that you’re just as deadly without a weapon.” 

Wooyoung leaned forward, grinning with pure excitement. “You mean you don’t  _ know  _ if I am?” he said, lips curling in triumph. Lee’s eyes darkened with anger. Wooyoung laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Which I take to mean that your info raids were a bust.” 

Lee leaned forward, hands folded as they rested on the table. “You told the guards that you wanted to talk,” he said, voice low and dark as steely eyes scanned over Wooyoung. “Why all of a sudden?” he demanded lowly. “We spent the better part of these two months trying to get you to talk, and now you suddenly gained a conscience?” 

Wooyoung was silent for a moment. “My leg is fine, by the way,” he said, sticking out his left leg and twisting it to show its movement. 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“You should have,” Wooyoung said. “It’s only polite.” 

“Better that your leg would have needed to be amputated,” Lee said without mercy. 

“Yeosang gave it to me.” If Wooyoung could roll his pants’ leg up just a little, you’d see the angry, twisted skin and scar. Wooyoung’s expression darkened- the laughter and banter slipping off like water running off of oil. 

Lee sat back in his chair, eyes narrowing at the sudden change in expression, his shoulders tense. 

Wooyoung leaned forward until his chest hit the edge of the table, expression turning murderous. 

“I’ve spent the last two months stuck in a solitary confinement cell,” he growled, fists curling through the handcuffs. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. And the  _ last  _ thing I gained was a conscience.” 

Lee peered down at him, placing a hand on the file on the table. “And what, exactly, did you think about?” 

“ _ Revenge _ ,” Wooyoung spat, lips curling in disgust, eyes holding such utter hatred, Lee cocked an eyebrow. Wooyoung sat back in the chair, lowering his eyes to stare at the plain white of his prison garb. “Yeosang betrayed me,” he snarled, looking up at Lee. “And now I’ve come to realize that I don’t quite care what happens to me or him. I just want him in here rotting with me.” 

Lee’s brows went up as he leaned forward, intrigued. “Your team betrayed you?” he questioned slowly. 

“How do you think you ever caught me?” Wooyoung spat, scoffing. “You think I suddenly made a rookie mistake?” he demanded. “ _ No _ . Yeosang was supposed to have my back- but he  _ didn’t _ . He threw me to the fucking  _ dogs _ .” 

Lee folded his hands, looking as if he were back in control of the situation. There was something satisfied in his eyes. “So you’ll talk?” he asked expectantly. “You’ll give us information of where Ateez is hiding out and their plans?”

Wooyoung huffed, shaking his head. “Yeosang and I were on our own mission. I haven’t spoken to Ateez for months- they’ve already moved on at this point. I can’t tell you shit about their plans- I’ve been stuck in  _ here _ .” He jerked his head around the tiny room. “But,” he said sharply. “Yeosang has never changed a single habit in over a fucking  _ decade _ .  _ I  _ can get you him.  _ He  _ can get you the rest of Ateez.” 

Woooyoung saw Lee consider it. The tilt back and forth of his head, the indecision in his eyes. 

“What do you want in return?” Lee questioned carefully. “In exchange for the information?” 

“Only one thing,” Wooyoung snarled, nails digging into his skin where his fists formed. “You let me be there when you take the fucker in.” He leaned forward. “I want Yeosang to fucking know who it was that turned him in- I want him to understand what happens when he stabs a partner in the back.” 

Lee scoffed, shaking his head sharply, as if Wooyoung were an amusing puppy chasing its tail. “Cute,” he said, standing and snatching the file. “But no one here is insane enough to actually bring you along on a bust,” he chuckled mockingly. “I understand that we haven’t caught your little group yet, but none of us are stupid here.” He straightened. “You’ll be staying right here for the next three life sentences you still have to serve.” 

Wooyoung stood abruptly, his chair scraping as Lee jerked towards him, hand resting at the gun on his side as Wooyoung glared at him. 

“Where else are you going to get information?” he demanded. “Another false lead? Another desperate attempt at an info bust?” A sick smile curled on his lips. “You need me, Lee. You’re not getting shit, unless I talk.” 

He saw the way Lee’s expression locked down, turning to stone. Saw the way his fist clenched and his eyes became defensive. Saw the moment he had already won. 

“And the only way I’m saying shit to you,” Wooyoug hissed, glaring. “Is if you take me with you… and let me watch every  _ second  _ of Yeosang being torn the fuck apart. I’ve spent  _ four weeks  _ in physical therapy because of that bastard. If you give me that pleasure…. I will sing like a fucking canary,” he promised darkly. “No other deals,” he snapped. “It’s that- or you can lock me back up for three life sentences, and you’ll never get a fucking  _ peep  _ out of me.” 

Wooyoung knew he had already won. 

Lee turned sharply towards the door. “I don’t have the proper authority to make that deal,” he said stiffly. “But I’ll pass it along to the people who do. We’ll get back in touch. Maybe.” 

The door swung closed for only a brief moment before a security guard arrived, grabbing Wooyoung by the cuffs and steering him roughly from the icy room into the colder hallway. 

“No, really,” he said, turning his head to face the guard. “Would it kill you to turn a heater on? Where the fuck are our tax dollars going?” 

Wooyoung was rewarded with a sharp strike across his face, and a gruff order to shut the fuck up. 

He was shoved back into his lonely cell in silence, the bars slamming shut and Wooyoung slowly sitting up, wiggling his shoulders slightly. 

“Hey!” he yelled, voice echoing. “You forgot the cuffs!” 

“Spend the night in them,” he heard the guard chuckle, somewhere down the hall he couldn’t see. “See if you lose some of that shit attitude.” 

“Asshole!” Wooyoung barked, but he received no response, so the guard must have moved on. 

He huffed harshly, getting to his feet and walking to the little cot in the corner, sitting down and trying to figure out a way to lay down that wouldn’t kill his arms. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, just leaning back against the wall, only bowed slightly to keep his weight off of his arms. He closed his eyes as more cold air brushed against his skin. “I’m coming,” he muttered darkly, whispers echoing in the cell. “I’m fucking coming for you, Yeosang.” 

~~~~~~~

For the second time, Wooyoung was dragged out of his cold cell into an equally cold interrogation room. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually warm. Or when he last saw real daylight. 

The cold was a bitch to his leg. When it was still healing, the temperature felt like getting shot again. It was amazing how fast you could heal when you actually did all the exercises the nice ladies in the therapy room told you to do. 

He sat in the chair, hands still achingly bound behind his back all night. He was sure once they were actually taken off, they’d hurt like a bitch. 

Time passed, and Wooyoung had to grin. The waiting tactic was a useless one. It only worked on the people who were almost shitting themselves. 

Wooyoung was as calm as could be. 

He sighed the longer he sat there, tapping his foot, rattling his handcuffs just to be annoying, and kicking the table leg to make it shift. 

“That’s enough of that, if you don’t mind,” Lee said loudly as he entered, door opening quickly, probably meant to make Wooyoung jump. 

He simply lifted his eyes to the police chief and saw another, grey-haired man enter behind him in an immaculate suit. 

Woooung bit back a smile. He loved Suits. They were so much fun. 

“This is Detective Jang,” Lee introduced, expression unamused. “He is the lead detective on the Ateez case.” 

Wooyoung tilted his head in mock greeting. “You look like the kind of kid I used to snag lunch money off of.” 

Wooyoung could immediately see the ruffle in his feathers, his posture stiffening under his pressed suit and his fingers coming up to push his glasses further up his nose. 

“So you’re the guy who's gonna bargain with me for info,” Wooyoung hummed, leaning forward. “Let me guess- you’ll consider time off for good behavior in return? I’ll get a cut off of twenty years if I cooperate? You’ll give me extra pudding with dinner?” he sneered. 

A muscle in Jang’s eye twitched, expression souring. 

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, eyes as dark as pitch. “We’ve already danced to this song, Detective,” he said, bored of this game. “Have you ever taken an economics class?” He questioned, head tilting mockingly. “ _ Never _ sell a scarce item you own for less than an outrageous price.”

“Your sarcasm is not helping you,” Jang muttered. 

“And I don’t even see how my demands are outrageous,” Wooyoung went on, shaking his head. “All I’m asking is to be present while you take this one fucker down,” he said. “And I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“You think we’re  _ idiots _ ?” he growled, slamming a hand that didn’t even make Wooyoung blink against the table, making a loud smacking sound. “You think others haven’t tried this? You think we actually believe that you won’t try and break away the moment you’re out of these walls?”

Wooyoung leaned forward sharply, making the detective tense, his eyes dark and thick with murderous anger. 

“You’ve clearly been motivated by revenge,” Wooyoung hissed, hands straining against the cuffs. “I don’t give a  _ fuck  _ about getting out of here,” He spat, voice dripping. “The only thing I want is to watch the light die from Yeosang’s eyes as he realizes his mistakes came back to haunt him.” 

“You think we’ll trust a member of this slickest gang out there?” He scoffed darkly. “You’re  _ never  _ leaving this facility,” he hissed. “You’re going to  _ rot  _ here, and one by one- you’re going to be joined by your little friends that you will  _ never  _ get to see.” 

And how  _ cute _ , his smile was triumphant. As if he had talked Wooyoung into a corner. 

Wooyoung hummed, sucking on his tongue disinterestedly. “Fine,” He said calmly. 

Lee and Jang both blinked, exchanging glances. 

Wooyoung leaned back in the chair, expression like concrete. “If that’s how it’s going to be, then our conversation is over.” He stuck his neck out, offering his head. “You can just go ahead and shoot me now,” he assured them. “Because that’s how much good I’m going to be to you at this point.” 

Jang’s fist curled, teeth look ready to break where they clenched together- and, oh, he was trying to hide the fact that Wooyoung was pissing him off. 

Truly, detective were all adorable. 

“What are you waiting for?” Wooyoung questioned, scooting his chair forward. “I’ve already made you my one and only offer- you either take me with you, or you continue your desperate game of cat and mouse that you’ve been playing with us for- what? Seven years now? Has it been longer?” He cocked his head. “Wait- No, it’s been nine, hasn’t it? Because I remember we had one celebratory day because we were nothing but  _ teenagers  _ fooling the police-” 

Jang slammed his hand on the table again, and Wooyoung fell silent, casting a distasteful glance at the appendage. 

He wrinkled his nose. “You know, you’re only adding to the stereotype that you guys are brutal.” 

“ _ You- _ ” 

Lee stuck a hand out sharply, stopping whatever curse that Jang was threatening. He glared at Wooyoung. “What if we offered you something else,” he said, ultimately calmer than the detective. “Name any other price you want- and we’ll be more than happy to consider it.” 

Wooyoung snorted, settling back in the chair for only a moment before sighing and standing up slowly, both men in the room putting hands on their guns. 

Wooyoung simply stood there, bored. “We’re done here, then,” He sighed. “You’re not interested in the information I have, and I’m not interested in continuing useless negotiations. I’ve given my terms. When you’re desperate enough to meet them, you know where to find me.” 

He watched them, absolutely nothing able to be concluded from his bored expression. 

Jang looked ready to pop, but Lee sighed, calling the guard back in. 

He grabbed Wooyoung by the cuffs again, and Wooyoung looked over his shoulder, back at Lee. “What if we make this a little less drawn out for the both of us,” he offered graciously, smiling brightly. “I’ll hold my offer for a week,” Wooyoung said, the guard pausing his march. “If, within a week, you haven’t accepted my terms, it no longer matters. I don’t care what you do- I’ll never even breathe a word about where my teammates  _ take a piss _ .” He grinned. “Understand, Chief?”

He started moving, the guard jerking him back and then shoving him forward after a gesture from the chief. 

Wooyoung was returned to his cell (and actually had his cuffs removed this time, making him hiss and curse at the guard). 

He spent most of the night trying to massage out the stiff pain in his arms and shoulders, staring at the wall blankly, letting the pain wash over him as a reminder. 

Wooyoung never really was able to keep track of time. There was no clock, no windows- If he was lucky, he might be able to ask one of the nicer guards what day or time it was, but most of them just told him to shut the fuck up.

But, this time, Wooyoung kept count. 

Two meals a day. 

Six meals- three days- passed, with no word from anyone, and Wooyoung occupied himself within his solitary cell by seeing how long he could stay in a handstand until the blood rushed too much to his head. 

He hummed songs he hadn’t heard since he was sixteen, and very pointedly did not allow his mind to wander anywhere near the past. 

Twelve meals. Six days. 

Wooyoung leaned against the wall of the cell, arms resting on his legs as he stared at the opposite wall, listening to cells open and close, feet walking to and fro. 

He smiled quietly. 

Thirteen meals. Halfway through the seventh day. 

Wooyoung couldn’t contain a giggle as he stood, walking up to the bars of the cell. 

The Chief froze as he entered the hallway, already finding Wooyoung standing at the bars. His eyes narrowed, lips curling in disgust at the criminal standing before his pure little police eyes. 

He stepped up to the bars, glaring. 

Wooyoung smiled politely, hands wrapping around the bars gently. “I take it you’re here to tell me to stop holding my breath? Here to say that you’ll follow the true law and not collude with a criminal to catch other criminals? Here to tell me all my speeches were useless? That you’ll never trust someone like me?” 

He waited patiently, watching the man’s fists draw tighter and tighter, eyes like staring down a long, cold cave that stared at Wooyoung with nothing but contempt. 

Lee let go of a disgusted noise- like catching a whiff of something unpleasant. He turned away from Wooyoung. 

“Jang will be by tomorrow,” he muttered, voice dripping with anger. “You give him a piece of legit info, and he takes you with him on his raid. Afterwards, you spill your guts.” He threw a murderous glare at Wooyoung. “ _ Got it _ ?” 

Wooyoung clapped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Sounds like such fun,” He assured him, the chief choking on annoyance. “See you later, Chief!” Wooyoung called as he marched down the hall. 

~~~~~~~~

“Alright, spill,” Jang barked, slamming a folder onto the table. 

Wooyoung peered at the folder, still leaned back in the chair, hands bound behind his back. He scanned over the various documents and pictures laid out before him.

He snorted. 

“God, you guys need me more than I thought,” he snickered, leaning forward slightly. Jang snarled, but Wooyoung ignored him. “First of all,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly, “you’re not even looking for him in the right area.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jang spat, shoving a small map towards Wooyoung. “One of  _ your  _ informants spilled the area to us. Your safehouse is in one of these fucking areas!” 

Wooyoung looked at the three little circles, chuckling and shaking his head. “Well, then, you either grabbed an informant we didn’t trust with  _ shit _ , or one that we trusted and he just straight up lied to you, because we have never operated in  _ any  _ of these spheres.” He wrinkled his nose. “ _ Hongdae _ ?” he questioned, almost gagging. “What- do you think we’re fucking  _ desperate _ ?” 

“Bullsh-” 

“Where, then?” Lee demanded, so much calmer and easier to speak politely with. “Where are your friends holed up?”

Wooyoung hummed, scanning the map. “Well, I already told you I can’t speak for Ateez. We change safehouses every few weeks, and I haven’t been keeping up. Yeosang, however…” A sick smile clung to Wooyoung’s lips as he looked up from the map. “I don’t even need the map. I know the exact address he’ll be holed up at.” 

“He’s not with the others?” Jang demanded. 

Wooyoung scoffed. “We don’t need all eight of us for jobs,” he snorted. “We do our own thing. Unless we’re planning on something big like storming the fucking president’s home.” 

Jang and Lee glared.

“That was a joke,” Wooyoung sighed, rolling his eyes. “That’s too much easy money- we go for the challenge.” 

“If you don’t start talking, you fucking bastard-” 

Fucking cops. 

“The outskirts of Seoul,” Wooyoung sighed heavily, exasperated. “God, would it kill you to say please?” he demanded, scoffing. “Anyway- Yeosang flits between three safehouses. When you grabbed me, it was about mid spring, which means we’re probably close to summer now, right?” 

Lee nodded stoically, eyes shifting for any sign of misleading. 

Wooyoung nodded confidently. “Then he’ll be in the outskirts. No one walks through there but farmers, but during the summer, they’re too busy on their farms. No one around for miles.” 

“What about the other two?” Jang demanded. “Give us all three locations.” 

Wooyoung gave him a long look that questioned his sanity. Jang’s expression turned red. Wooyoung sighed. “No,” He said primly. “He won’t be at the other two, so it doesn’t matter for taking him down. I’m not saying another fucking work until he’s rotting in here with me.” 

Jang leaned on the table, lips curling- 

Wooyoung stared on impassively. 

“You know,” he said, tone dulled, “you keep doing that like it’s going to scare me-” 

Lee slapped a hand across Jang’s chest to stop him from lunging forward, hard eyes staring at Wooyoung. 

“You will accompany them out there,” Lee muttered darkly, never breaking eye contact with Wooyoung’s bored gaze. “There will be a gunman with his sight trained on your for every  _ moment  _ you are out of your cell. If you make a wrong move, they will shoot to kill, and we’ll start from scratch on our hunt for your people knowing that there’s at least one less of you in our hair.” Eyes cold as steel pressed against Wooyoung. “Do you understand how little you’re worth to us, if you try something?”

Wooyoung grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing the only person I intend to betray has already betrayed me, isn’t it?” He settled comfortably against the table. “You’ll want a small team- no more than fifteen. Less than ten is even better- we have ears everywhere. Make a big fuss, and Yeosang will bolt.” 

“You think we’ll trust that-” 

Wooyoung groaned, resisting the urge to slam his head into the table in frustration. “Jesus  _ Christ _ , your dick must be  _ miniscule  _ for the amount of power you feel the need to flaunt.” 

“You fucking-” 

“I’m giving you info,” Wooyoung said, over-enunciating, rolling his eyes. “Follow it or not, but don’t be shocked when shit goes to hell when you don’t listen. You wanted inside info- so here’s your info. One unmarked van, and maybe one extra car. Anything more and the grapevine will light up like a fucking firecracker-” 

Despite his cursing, Jang did not interrupt again, only glaring in utter rage. 

Wooyoung shrugged. 

He didn’t need the man to like him. Only to follow his every word. 

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung’s head slammed into the wall of the transport vehicle once more, and he cursed, struggling to keep himself up as they bounced along the dirt road. 

The man seated on the actual seat in the back of the van, with his gun trained on Wooyoung, seemed to be enjoying himself too much. 

“Fucking dirt roads,” Wooyoung muttered, one eye squeezed shut against the throbbing in his head. 

“Tell your friends to pick a less criminal life, then,” Jang called from in front of the grate that separated Wooyoung and his gunman from the rest of the team of eight. “Maybe they could hang out in some less disgusting places.” 

Wooyoung chuckled darkly, turning eyes to the back of the man’s head. “Wow, wise words,” he said in awe. “Did your Mama tell you that? Did you have a silver spoon shoved up your ass while she did?” 

Jang turned, eyes dark and hate-filled. “Your kind must be sitting on enough money to fund a fucking city. And you still just need more, huh? Can never stop now, huh?” he spat. He turned away. “Wealth has nothing to do with mortality. You’ve proven that.” 

Another bump, and Wooyoung’s shoulder hit the van hard. He glared at the back of the man’s head. “No,” he muttered under his breath. “But it sure does help, doesn’t it?” 

The van began to slow some minutes afterwards, and Wooyoung perked up, trying to see through the grate- 

“Sit down,” the gunman snapped, lifting his gun. 

Wooyoung huffed, sitting down and glaring. “I just wanna make sure we’re actually here, and you’re not about to just toss me in a fucking river.” 

“Alright,” Jang ordered. “The moment we reach the front, get into position. We get him to come out, and if he refuses, we go in with the gas- all clear?” 

A chorus of responses, and Wooyoung felt his lips tug up uncontrollably. 

The gunman scoffed in disgust. “That excited to see someone from your own team get caught?” he asked. “Disgusting. You people don’t know a fucking thing of loyalty, do you?” 

Wooyoung’s smile dimmed, stomach boiling. His expression was polite. “Imagine if Jang shot you in the fucking knee after he told you go ahead, he’s got your back. And then he’s running the other way while the police are dragging you into the back of a fucking van. ” He cocked his head. “Are you very likely to forgive that?”

“Sick bastard,” he muttered, gain still trained on Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung hummed. “Tell me about it.” 

“ _ You _ ,” Jang snapped, turning around. “As per your outrageous request, Hwang will take you out of the back of the van so you get a nice front row seat to your friend getting snagged,” he sneered. 

(That particular conversation had taken two hours and several interventions from Lee before the agreement was made. It helped when you held all the cards.) 

“His gun will be to your back the entire time,” Jang spat. “So much as sneeze, and your liver will be pumped full of so much lead-” 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “I got it, you already made your threats. How many times do I have to say it to get it through your fucking head?” he scoffed. “All I want is Yeosang to pay for what he did.” He shifted his leg, Jang’s eyes following the movement. “As long as that happens- you won’t hear a peep from me.” 

Jang muttered curses and expressions of disgust under his breath. 

Wooyoung waited. 

“Approaching the point,” one of the men reported. “Stopping in less than a minute.” 

The gunman got to his feet, jerking his gun in a signal for Wooyoung to stand. He struggled with no hands and the moving van, but by pressing his back against the wall, he stood, eyeing the gun. 

“You know how to actually use that thing?” He questioned, eyebrow cocking. 

The gun was cocked slowly. “Try something and find out.” 

Wooyoung hummed, nose wrinkling. “Nah. Got shot once- not as fun as the movies make it seem. Have you seen that one with the actor with the accent-” 

“ _ Move _ !” 

The van suddenly came to a halt, and the doors in the front flew open, the people pouring out. The gunman by Wooyoung gestured for him to turn around, grabbing Wooyoung by the link of his cuffs and pushing him towards the door, which he shoved open with his foot, holding Wooyoung back for a moment. 

The team of policemen hid behind the doors and bodies of the two vehicles they brought, aiming their guns at a rundown, shitty little house that had half the roof missing. 

The cars were parked maybe fifty feet from the front door that hung off its hinges. 

The whole building was silent, as if it hadn’t been touched in decades. 

“Yeosang of Ateez!” Jang’s voice yelled into a megaphone, his gun held steady. “We know you’re in there! Come out the front door with your arms raised in the air! We are given permission to shoot on sight, if you do not cooperate!” 

The gunman shoved Wooyoung forward, making him stumble a little as he landed on the dirt road they had been traveling on. The man hopped out behind him. Hwang? Hadn’t Jang said he was Hwang? 

Wooyoung did really care as he glared at the man who twisted the cuffs, pulling on his wrists uncomfortably. They stayed within the area of the two open back doors of the van, Wooyoung leaned slightly to see around them. 

The house hadn’t moved. 

Wooyoung held his breath. The cold metal of the gun pressed between his shoulder blades as he leaned a little bit further. 

“Kang Yeosang!” Jang yelled, louder. “You have ten seconds to comply before we-” 

There was faint, but oh, so recognizable sound of a bullet being fired through a silencer. 

The gunman behind Wooyoung suddenly fell against him, nothing but a wet splattering sound before his body hit the ground, Wooyoung turning sharply to see blood pouring from his head- 

Another shot, and a man behind one of the cars jerked forward, the back of his head a gory mess- 

Hands were suddenly tearing Wooyoung forward, fists twisted in the front of his shirt and lifting him to he stood on his tiptoes as Jang glared murderously at him, a gun pressing to Wooyoung’s jaw roughly enough to break the skin- 

“ _ You fucking set us- _ ” 

Wooyoung dropped like a stone, all of his weight going limp and tearing himself from Jang’s grip. He hit the ground hard enough to break his jaw, face pressed into the dirt with his hands still bound behind him, eyes squeezed shut. 

He heard Jang’s body hit the ground. 

People screamed and yelled and scrambled- too occupied with the shooter they tried to locate to care about Wooyoung laying in the dirt. 

Gunfire was returned. 

And then suddenly stopped. 

Wooyoung stayed where he was, waiting to see if any police boots would walk across the dirt. 

There was only the faint sound of a gentle motor that slowly got louder. 

Wooyoung cracked his eyes open, trying to blink away the dirt and dust that irritated them, making it hard to open them. He glanced around, a scattering of dead bodies that watered the dirt with blood. 

Not a single one even twitched. 

He coughed, stirring up more dust that clogged his throat. He cursed weakly through the hacking as he slowly tried to lift himself, but the impact of falling made his chest hurt too much to get much farther than rolling onto his side uncomfortably. 

He was less than a foot away from Jang’s dead-eyed corpse. 

Wooyoung coughed more dust from his lungs, wincing- 

A hand grabbed his shirt, hauling him up roughly. Wooyoung stumbled, still blinking away dirt- 

A body pressed passed his, arms around him, and the sound of a key being inserted into the back of his cuffs. 

The body smelled like gunpowder and vanilla. 

The person pulled away, Wooyoung’s arms falling forward, making him hiss at the ache- 

He lifted his eyes, and before he saw anything more than pale skin and a reddish smudge by brown eyes, a hand was tangled in his hair, pulling it back as lips claimed his roughly. 

There was the grit of dirt between their lips, but Wooyoung fisted his hands in the lapels of the bomber jacket they wore, yanking them closer as teeth bit at his lips and Wooyoung sucked their tongue into their mouths, warm and sweet, like they had been sucking on a lollipop. 

The grip on his hair tightened, drawing a low moan from his mouth, and the two of them jerked apart, chests heaving as Wooyoung resisted the urge to shove their mouths together again. 

Instead, he simply felt his lips curl up in the most satisfied, cocky grin he could remember ever needing in six months. 

“Yeosang,” He panted, shoulders still aching from the handcuffs. “Fucking took you long enough.” 

Yeosang’s eyes were as sharp as glass hidden among the fibers of carpet- waiting to pierce whoever dared not watch them carefully. His lips quirked, something smug in them. “Says the one who took two months to get the fuck out of there. Losing your touch, Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung jerked him forward, tasting sugar and heat once again, almost choking on Yeosang’s tongue that was shoved inside of his mouth without preamble, a hand gripping the back of Yeosang’s neck, pulling him closer- 

“Well, excuse me,” he panted, only parting long enough to get out bursts of speech as Yeosang’s teeth caught his bottom teeth hard enough to nearly draw blood. “I was shot- and in therapy- for a month before they even- talked to me-” 

Yeosang hummed, not really caring as he shoved Wooyoung back until he hit the side of the van, pinning him there as his teeth found Wooyoung’s neck, biting and sucking- 

God, two months was too fucking long. 

“F-Fuck, Yeosang-” 

“Among all these dead bodies?” Yeosang questioned, lips trailing up to his jaw. “That’s a little morbid, even for you, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung scoffed, shoving at the other’s shoulder, forcing his lips off of his neck. “Then, stop before I decide it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.” 

Yeosang smiled like a cat with a canary clamped tightly in its jaw. 

“Just you?” Wooyoung asked, scanning the scattering of dead bodies once more. 

“The others are waiting,” Yeosang assured him, turning, and Wooyoung noticed his motorcycle waiting just behind the van. He grinned broadly. “I told them I could handle it.” 

“You were rather prepared,” Wooyoung noted, bending over and grabbing the gun from Jang’s hand. “Got a bag with you?” 

Yeosang unhooked the backpack from it’s strap on the side of the bike, tossing it to Wooyoung, who caught it, shoving the (safety on) gun into it. He considered for a moment before taking the detective’s badge as well. 

“The grapevine blew up the moment you walked out of the front doors,” Yeosang told him, helping Wooyoung gather the weapons and identification (never know when that’ll come in handy). “I was waiting for an hour before you even left the city.” 

“Where were you?” Wooyoung questioned, zipping up the full bag. “Perched in a tree?” 

“Just at the treeline,” Yeosang said, gesturing to the woods on the other side of the road. “These guys must be dumbasses if they couldn’t even fucking see me. They were shooting like Hongjoong after two bottles of soju.” 

He glanced at the old safehouse that none of them had ever used as such- but their back up plans had back up plans. This was the first level of back up plan to use as a base. 

Wooyoung snickered, strapping the bag onto the side of the bike. “Can I drive?” he questioned, eyes sparking. 

Yeosang laughed flatly. “You’ve been in a facility for two months,” He said, pushing Wooyoung back and straddling the bike, moving forward to make room. “You’re not crashing my fucking bike in the first hour you’re out.” 

Wooyoung huffed, rolling his eyes in disappointment, but swung his leg over the bike, sliding up against Yeosang’s back, arms wrapping around his waist. 

He grinned as he hooked his chin over Yeosang’s shoulder. “Unless, you wanted to be in front for the added benefits?” Wooyoung rolled his hips forward slightly- just enough to get the point across. 

Yeosang glared at him over the shoulder as he kicked the bike to life, the roar of it echoing through the clearing. “If you try and hump me on my bike again, I’m going to shove a tailpipe up your ass,” He said flatly. 

Wooyoung chuckled, a little smugly, as he settled against Yeosang’s back. 

This was the first human contact he had had in nearly two months. 

Two months since he had been warm like this. Since he had had actual sunlight on his skin. 

He chuckled into the back of Yeosang neck as the biked jerked forward, Yeosang making a U-turn with a speed that would have made old ladies faint, but Wooyoung just bit his shoulder to keep from whooping at the pleasure of it. 

The wind whipped at his face like a needle-thin knife, but Wooyoung had spent the passed two months stuck in a 10x10 square, and he fucking felt alive again. 

Yeosang glanced over his shoulder at Wooyoung. “What the hell were they feeding you in there?” he demanded. “You look like a fucking stick.” 

“Shit, mostly,” Wooyoung gagged. “I swear to God, after I get a shower, I’m going and getting a fucking cheeseburger or something.” 

Yeosang chuckled, taking a turn sharp enough that Wooyoung’s knee brushed the ground, his chest opening up. “I think there’s a few more things that are gonna happen before that.” 

Wooyoung grinned, biting the exposed part of Yeosang’s neck and sucking sharply. 

Yeosang’s shoulders tensed, a quiet “ _ Fuck _ ,” getting lost in the wind, but it made his stomach curl. 

“Two months is too fucking long,” Wooyoung whispered, lips dragging down the back of his neck. 

“Did you miss me, Woo?” Yeosang questioned, not turning around. 

Wooyoung didn’t smile. “How could I not?” 

The rest of the ride was in silence. Wooyoung didn’t even spare a glance back to the battleground they left behind them. He almost wished he had gotten a little bit of time to gloat over Jang. 

Didn’t know shit about loyalty? Which of his team was waiting two months for his ass? 

Fucking cops. 

This is why they were useless against people like Wooyoung and Ateez. 

None of them knew how to play the long game. So obsessed with each individual battle, they practically threw away the war. 

And Ateez’s wars were undefeated. 

~~~~~~~~

Further out into the country, they pulled up to the familiar farmhouse. 

Wooyoung chuckled as the bike began to quiet as they slowed, rolling down the mile-long driveway leading up to it. 

“You guys seriously never moved?” Wooyoung questioned. 

Yeosang cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder. “Should we have assumed you would have ratted us out?” 

Wooyoung shook his head. “Hongjoong gets paranoid sometimes, is all.” he posed, grinning. 

Yeosang huffed. “Not over his team.” 

They came to a stop at the base of the steps. Wooyoung wondered if any of the animals were still in the barn. Maybe with the summer, Eden had moved them to an actual farm to get some money out of them. 

Yeosang kicked the kickstand down, swinging one leg off the bike. “Hongjoong is-” 

Wooyoung swung a leg over, wrapping it around Yeosang’s waist and pulling their hips flushed together as he dragged the other down for another kiss, lips bruising as Yeosang braced a hand against Wooyoung’s shoulder, fingers digging into his shoulder. 

Wooyoung grabbed his hair perhaps a bit too hard, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue, addicted to the taste of sugar and the scent of vanilla and gunpowder- 

“Hey!” Mingi’s deep voice echoed across the yard from the front door. “Stop fucking in the driveway, and get your asses in here! We’ve been fucking waiting on you!” 

Wooyoung flipped him off without taking his lips from Yeosang, pulling him farther forward, making him bring a leg up to support himself, crotches rubbing together, Wooyoung moaning his name- 

“ _ Wooyoung! Yeosang!”  _

Wooyoung broke away, sighing in frustration as he glared at Seonghwa standing in the doorway, glaring. 

“ _ Enough _ ,” he called, not amused. “Get the hell in here- You can suck face after we finish the meeting about  _ you  _ getting arrested.” 

Yeosang turned to Seonghwa, batting those pretty, innocent eyes. “But,  _ hyung- _ ” 

“ _ Now _ , Yeosang.” 

They both sighed, Yeosang pulling away, and Wooyoung standing with him, both of them striding towards the farmhouse. 

“Geez, you’d think he was sleeping with the leader or something,” Wooyoung muttered. 

At Seonghwa’s glare, Yeosang elbowed him, Wooyoung shrugging. 

What- were they gonna get mad he was right? 

Seonghwa lead them into the meeting room. Which was just the kitchen. 

A large, round table sat in the middle, usually covered with maps and intel pages, but it was clear now. Just eight chairs- four of which were occupied. 

Hongjoong stood, leaning against the counter, sharp eyes falling over the three of them entering. Seonghwa took the seat closest to the counter, leaning back and glancing at Hongjoong. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang stood at the doorway. 

“Damn, you even got Yunho to come out of his room,” Wooyoung chuckled. 

It was pretty weird seeing all eight of them in one place. They were usually scattered between a dozen different jobs, only gathering to regroup and redirect. 

But even Jongho sat beside Mingi- still bent over a computer and typing away at it, but he glanced up at Wooyoung, his expression unimpressed before returning to his hacking. 

Or whatever politically correct term he liked to use. 

Hongjoong didn’t smile, arms crossing tighter. “What happened?” he asked. 

Hongjoong never demanded. He never raised his voice. Never asked twice. 

“Where the fuck have you two been?” He asked, sharp eyes slicing over Wooyoung and Yeosang who stood tall. 

They did not cower before Hongjoong. They did not fear him. But they did respect him. As equally as he respected each of them. 

“I thought your little honeymoon project would take a month, at most. What was with the extra time you took? And  _ you- _ ” He narrowed his eyes at Yeosang. “Why were you not keeping us up to date by the  _ minute _ ?”

Wooyoung and Yeosang were silent. 

“But  _ most of all _ ,” the leader said, pushing off of the counter, expression stiffening. “Explain to me why I found out one of my men was in the fucking police’s facility through an  _ informant _ , rather than his  _ partner  _ at the time.”

Wooyoung walked forward, leaving Yeosang to stand in the doorway, taking a seat at the table between two empty chairs. “We got sloppy,” Wooyoung said, voice a little dark, but light hearted. “They got too close, and we had to scramble a bit to throw them off. Nothing happened. Yeosang finished up our mission on his own, and I got the fuck out of there. No harm, no foul.” 

“ _ Yes _ , foul,” Seonghwa said sharply, leaning his arms on the table to glare at them disapprovingly. “Because if they got too close to you two, they could get too close to any of us-” 

“They always get close to us,” Wooyoung said, watching Yeosang approach from the corner of his eye. He saw the other take a seat behind him. “They just got lucky this time. We already burned our tracks. The so-called leak has been plugged. Everything is resumed as normal.” 

“That’s not good enough, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong said, voice darkening. “Yeosang, you should have told us the full story-” 

“That was the full story at the time,” Yeosang said, voice calm and cool. “The cops got a little too close, Wooyoung got hit and we couldn’t shake them. I told you that. He went with them, got out, and now we’ve regrouped. All of that happened within the past day- there was nothing to tell outside of what I had already informed you of.” 

“Wooyoung got hit,” Hongjoong enunciated, stepping over to them. “They got close enough to shoot you-” 

“They’re always close enough to shoot us,” Wooyoung said firmly, arms looping behind his head. “Nothing happened, hyung,” He scoffed. “They dragged me away, gave me the Geneva Convention rehab for my leg, and then I played them like a fucking fiddle to get out of there- They don’t know jack shit. Everyone is still safe.” 

“Are you seriously not seeing the issue we’re addressing?” Seonghwa demanded. “Wooyoung got hit-” 

“We’ve all gotten hit,” Wooyoung said, shrugging it off. “There’s not a single person on this team who hasn’t gotten shot almost vitally- even the  _ baby’s  _ seen that much action.” 

Jongho glared at him from over the computer screen. 

“Wooyoung-” 

“What more do you want, Hongjoong?” Wooyoung asked, spreading his hands. “Everything’s back to normal, we’re not gonna fuck up again, and Yeosang and I  _ still  _ completeed our assigned mission even with the shit storm.” 

There was a tension in the room. 

There was always a tension when things started to go wrong. Things went wrong so rarely, so quickly, that it always threw them off. 

“I get it,” Wooyoung said honestly, voice losing its edge. “You’re worried- you’re always worried. But there’s no point in it. Everything is fine, the cops still have nothing on us, and everyone is back home safe and sound where Seonghwa can bug us about brushing our teeth daily.” 

“Woo-” 

Hongjoong flicked a hand, silencing Seonghwa and staring at Wooyoung with an expression as expressive as marble. 

Wooyoung waited. 

Hongjoong finally caved. He sighed, closing his eyes, as if praying for some god to give him strength. 

“If I ever,” he said firmly, opening his eyes and glaring. “ _ Ever- _ find out that either of you do something so stupid again, I will personally tie you to the fucking roof and leave you there, do you understand?” 

Wooyoung gave a mock salute, his voice still rounded. “Aye, captain.” 

“We understand,” Yeosang replied seriously. 

“That’s what happens when you give them honeymoon missions,” Yunho muttered, expression raised into an “I told you so.” “Shit goes to hell.” 

“I don’t really find it very accurate for you to call it honeymoon missions when it’s us,” Yeosang said firmly. “In fact, I find it insulting.” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said, standing and smoothing out his pants. “It’s fucking insulting. And also- wouldn’t we have to be together for it to be a honeymoon?” he questioned, rounding his hand and taking a fistful of Yeosang’s hair, dragging his head back to kiss him. 

Yeosang hummed against his lips, content, and Wooyoung grinned as he pulled away, ignoring the rolling of eyes around him. 

“Is there anything else?” he questioned, wiping at the corner of his mouth, eyes passing between Hongjoong and Seonghwa who only looked sadly at Wooyoung. His jaw tightened a bit. “Because if not, I’m gonna shower and get something to eat, because I’m fucking starving.” 

There was a glance exchanged between the two oldest, but Hongjoong waved a hand, sighing. “Go,” he allowed. “You’ve spent two months in a fucking prison, go take a nap or something. We’ll get things sorted with the missions out here.” 

Wooyoung was grateful for the brief reprieve, waving at the others as he exited the kitchen and headed down the hall and up the stairs. 

Presuming that no one had fucked with his shit in two months, Wooyoung went to the second door and pushed it open, finding everything exactly as he left it. He took a brief moment to breathe- the room a little stuffy in his absence- before heading to the closet and pulling down a change of clothes that smelled like dust. 

The shower he took was long and hot (San could bitch at him later for using all the hot water, but Wooyoung figured first days back from prison got him certain rights). Christ, it had been so long since Wooyoung hadn’t been freezing his ass off. 

He let the water run down his body, scrubbing away the scent and ice of the facility until his skin was a little raw and the water had begun to turn tepid. 

He turned it off, disappointed, and dried himself off roughly, breathing in the steam of the bathroom that fogged the air. The mirror was obscured with steam, and Wooyoung was a little grateful for that. 

He was sure he still looked like shit. He knew for a fact that his hair had grown obnoxiously long. He would need to get Yunho to hack some of it off. Wooyoung ran a quick hand through the damp strands, pulling them away from his head and letting it fall back, uneven and messy. 

He ruffled his head roughly, letting it become a mess as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. It was too motherfucking hot in this farmhouse in the summer, so shorts were gonna have to be a thing, despite Wooyoung’s hatred of shorts. 

He kicked his stupid prison suit into the corner, making a mental note to make San burn it, and walked out of the bathroom, squeezing out his hair a little more with the towel. 

Yeosang was already sitting on his bed, a plate with a sandwich and some fries sitting beside him. 

Wooyoung smirked as he tossed the towel onto a chair and took the plate he offered, sitting down in his chair (throwing the towel onto the floor). “Waiting around while I’m showering?” he asked coyly. “Hoping you’ll catch a sight of something?” 

Yeosang chuckled, leaning back on his hands easily. “Why would I sit around and hope for something you’re always eager to give me?” 

Wooyoung laughed, taking a large bite of the sandwich, grimacing. “Really?” he asked around the sweet mouthful. “Peanut butter and jelly?” 

“Seonghwa apparently hasn’t gone shopping,” Yeosang said, shrugging. “And Hongjoong says no one is leaving to go get a burger. So suck it up and eat it.” 

“I’d rather be eating something more pleasant,” Wooyoung muttered, but took another bite because anything that wasn’t prison food looked like a three-course meal. 

Yeosang clicked his tongue, drawing a leg up onto the bed. “How did you survive two months in there?” he questioned, a hand placed mockingly to his chest. “I don’t think those security guards are the type to be down for getting their dicks sucked.” 

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung mused around the last bite of food (he was hungry, okay?). “There was one guard who always looked just a little too long.” 

Yeosang brought a curious eyebrow up, not a single shift in his expression. 

Yeosang was always a tough nut to crack when it came to jealousy. He was too confident in their arrangement to ever get riled up at something like that. In fact, he just used it to throw back in Wooyoung’s face. 

“Bet you thought of me the whole time,” Yeosang chuckled, gaze darkening. 

Wooyoung set the empty plate aside, crossing his legs coyly, showing off the long, exposed skin. “Every fucking day,” he promised. 

Wooyoung saw Yeosang’s eyes flicker to his legs on display. 

But rather than his gaze darkening, it softened- losing some of that playfulness. Wooyoung followed his gaze, eyes falling on the bullet scar on his calf that stood out so clearly against the pale skin. 

Wooyoung’s lips tried to grin (and he could feel himself succeed). “Those bastards get one lucky shot a month, don’t they?” 

Yeosang didn’t grin back. Didn’t kick start his expression in playful light-heartedness. 

He was supposed to play along. 

“Does it still hurt?” Yeosang asked, and Wooyoung could see the struggle for indifference, for casualness. He didn’t  _ really  _ care, he was just asking. That’s what Wooyoung was  _ supposed  _ to take away from the question. 

Yeosang failed miserably at framing it that way. 

Wooyoung dropped both his feet to the floor, expression hardening slightly. “Yeosang-” 

“It’s just a question,” Yeosang said sharply, trying to look annoyed, but his eyes were too clear. 

Sometimes, Wooyoung wished Yeosang was as good at acting when they were alone as he was out in the field. 

“Did they treat it properly?” came another question that was too gentle. “Are you gonna get Yunho to look at i-” 

“Just  _ leave  _ it, Yeosang,” Wooyoung snapped, too harsh too quickly, but he shoved himself to his feet. “It’s fine, so just  _ leave it _ .” 

He walked across the room to his dresser, staring at the mirror and fixing his hair roughly. He ignored his face that was a little too pale and thin compared to what it was before, fixing the shaggy mess atop his head. 

He saw Yeosang stand in the mirror, his expression solemn as he turned to Wooyoung. 

“Is that really crossing our line?” Yeosang demanded, voice too soft. “Asking if a  _ bullet wound  _ is properly healed?”

“With the way you’re asking?  _ Yes _ ,” Wooyoung snapped, glaring in the mirror. Yeosang was approaching slowly. 

“I would ask the same way if it was anyone else!” Yeosang rolled his eyes, exasperated. 

Wooyoung turned around, facing Yeosang completely, muscles stiff and eyes searching Yeosang’s eyes. 

Of course, Yeosang could do all he could to convince Wooyoung he was being honest, but Wooyoung could read him too well. Could see too much written in the cinnamon hue of his irises. 

So Wooyoung surged forward, tugging Yeosang forward and kissing him hard enough to bruise, teeth dragging on his bottom lip and drawing out a low moan as Yeosang pushed him back until the small of his back was pressed against the edge of the dresser. 

Yeosang’s body was a hard line against Wooyoung’s, bending him backwards as hands wandered through his damp hair, tugging and traversing down his side, teasing the edge of skin just beneath his shirt- 

Wooyoung dropped his hands to the edge of chest of drawers, lifting himself up to sit on it, legs wrapping around Yeosang’s waist and pulled him closer, the change in angle making if so much easier for Wooyoung’s tongue to taste every inch of Yeosang’s mouth that was offered with a low moan of his name that traveled in vibrations through his bones. 

“Two months, Wooyoung,” Yeosang panted as he trailed cool fingers up Wooyoung’s stomach, smooth skin against calloused fingertips, such a familiar, intoxicating feeling that Wooyoung let his head fall back at the sensation of his touch- 

One of Yeosang’s hands dropped to Wooyoung’s thigh, squeezing the muscle and trailing down his leg until it rested his calf. 

Gentle fingertips rested over the bullet scar. 

Wooyoung jerked his leg away, tearing their lips apart, mouth open to snap another reprimand- 

Yeosang’s expression stilled his tongue. 

It wasn’t near tears. But his clear brown eyes showed an ache deep enough for Wooyoung’s stomach to clench, the familiar playful set of Yeosang’s face replaced with an equally familiar desperation that they had been trying to squash out for years- 

“Please, Wooyoung,” Yeosang whispered, voice low and deep enough for Wooyoung to get lost within. “Just for a moment.  _ Please _ .” 

“It’s never just a moment,” Wooyoung returned, not as firm as he’d hoped- his voice dropping too quiet. “That’s why we don’t have moments, Yeosang.” 

“You were  _ shot _ , Wooyoung,” Yeosang hissed, expression pinching painfully. “You were shot right in front of me-” 

“You said it was no different from the others,” he reminded him, almost a warning on his lips, but it kept weakening with every pained twist of Yeosang’s expression that had his hands twitching at his sides, ready to move towards him, to comfort- but he  _ couldn’t _ . 

“You know it’s always different.” 

“That’s why we can’t,” Wooyoung hissed, nails digging into his palm as he clenched his fists. “Yeosang- you know that it never stays where we need it-” 

Yeosang kissed him. And Wooyoung could immediately taste the difference- lips sweeter and more gentle, almost asking rather than demanding- 

Wooyoung pushed him away, holding him at arm’s length. “Yeosang,” he scolded sharply. 

“ _ Two months _ , Wooyoung,” he said, voice almost begging, eyes misty. “You were shot and I  _ left  _ you and you were gone for  _ two months _ , and I didn’t fucking know what was happening to you, I just  _ waited- _ ” 

_ Wooyoung’s legs pumped rapidly, almost matching the rapid beat of his heart.  _

_ There was shouting and gunfire behind them as they sprinted through the forest. Yeosang glanced back, a few paced in front of Wooyoung (he had always been faster).  _

_ “Eyes front!” Wooyoung snapped as Yeosang narrowly missing running into a tree, the leaves beneath their feet taking away their traction. “Keep going!”  _

_ Yeosang turned away, and Wooyoung cursed again as a tree behind them splintered as a bullet found its mark.  _

_ He couldn’t believe he was so fucking  _ stupid-  _ How the fuck could he have not even  _ thought  _ about the fact they might have fucking heat sensors? He just fucking waltzed through the door once the scan said there were no motion sensors-  _

_ And now they were fucking sprinted through the forest from the cops like fucking newbies. They never let the cops get this close before, they were better than this- _

_ There was no gunfire sound that stood out more than the others, so Wooyoung got no warning, no time to brace himself.  _

_ Just a bullet in his calf and hot flames of pain rushing up his leg.  _

_ He barely choked out a violent curse as his leg buckled, sending him sprawling through the leaves, arms dragging across roots as they flew back to clench at the bleeding hole, slick blood and white hot pain blinding him for a moment-  _

_ Yeosang was at his side, probably saying something, but the roar in Wooyoung’s ear drowned him out. It didn’t matter how often you got shot- it hurt like nothing else any of them ever experienced.  _

_ The cops could never hit anything worth shit, why now- Why did they have to get lucky now, why now-  _

_ Yeosang was glancing behind them, lips moving rapidly, eyes frantic. “-carry you, come on!” Yeosang finally let go from applying pressure on his wound, one arm trying to slide beneath Wooyoung’s leg-  _

_ Wooyoung glanced behind them, breathing through gritted teeth and saw flashlights in the distance.  _

_ He shoved Yeosang hard enough to other wound up on his ass in the dirt, looking shocked. “Go,” Wooyoung hissed, both hands clutched at the slick blood coating his leg, heart spasming with the pain. “Keep fucking running, they’re-”  _

_ “I’m not fucking leaving you here,” Yeosang snapped, moving towards him again., voice too close to breaking. “Come on, we have to-”  _

_ “You can’t carry me and move fast enough to make a difference,” Wooyoung spat, breath coming quicker with the pain. He shoved Yeosang’s hands away roughly, glaring murderously. “Go!” he hissed. “Or they’ll get both of us, you fucking dumbass.” _

_ “Wooyoung-”  _

_ Wooyoung didn’t look at his eyes, ignoring the desperate pleading.  _

_ “I’ll find you,” Wooyoung hissed, pushing his hands away again. “I’ll get the fuck out again, just go, Yeosang- They’re not getting both of us, got it?”  _

_ Yeosang’s expression was open and torn.  _

_ “Stop caring,” Wooyoung snapped, ugly and angry. “Fucking  _ go- _ ”  _

_ He shoved Yeosang once more, the other stumbling back- “I’ll get out, but they’re coming- Go, Yeosang, just  _ go _ ! I’ll find you-” _

_ Another gunshot tore through the trees around them, and Yeosang finally scrambled to his feet, looking behind him at Wooyoung. Wooyoung watched him run off into the trees, both his hands clamped over the bullet hole and cursing quietly, blood turning cold.  _

_ He was not afraid of the police. They had been running circles around them for fucking years.  _

_ But if had been years even longer since Wooyoung had operated on his own. He watched until he could no longer see Yeosang, sending a prayer to a God he had stopped believing in that he made it far enough before-  _

_ “Hands up, now!”  _

_ Wooyoung cursed, mind already racing through familiar battle plans. “I’ll fucking kill you for this, you bastard!” Wooyoung yelled into the empty woods after Yeosang.  _

_ Three men ran passed Wooyoung, into the woods after Yeosang. He would get away, Wooyoung repeated as he lifted his hands slowly, blood dripping down his forearms as his leg throbbed. Yeosang was good enough to get away.  _

_ Wooyoung was handcuffed and dragged to a stretcher.  _

_ Within the hour he had heard word among the officers that his partner had gotten away. Wooyoung’s chest unlocked, even as four guns stayed trained on him.  _

_ He would get out of this.  _

_ Yeosang would be waiting for him.  _

“We’ve been getting too deep, Yeosang,” Wooyoung said firmly, even as his throat constricted as Yeosang’s hand laid against his leg in a pleading gesture. “It took you way too long to leave me there-” 

“I would have hesitated for anyone!” Yeosang snapped. 

“You know it’s different.” 

“ _ Yes _ , it’s different!” Yeosang shouted, anger finally taking over the pain. “I don’t care what sort of front or name you try to put over it- You  _ know  _ it’s different, Wooyoung! Just because you’re able to convince yourself more readily than I can-” 

Wooyoung tried to imagine if they had been reversed. If it was Yeosang who had been hit, and he was shoving Wooyoung away, telling him to leave him, to run- 

Wooyoung would not have been able to do it. He would have stood there and killed every fucker who came after them, but he would not have been able to leave him- 

So, in a way, Yeosang was stronger at this than Wooyoung. That wasn’t surprising to anyone. 

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung said firmly, hands gripping Yeosang’s arm tightly. He locked eyes with the other, intense aching meeting honest pain. “No feelings,” He hissed. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah, it’s just  _ physical _ ,” Yeosang muttered, rolling his eyes. “Wooyoung, how long will we keep playing this game?” he demanded, eyes hollowing. 

“As long as we exist together,” Wooyoung snapped, trying to harden his heart against Yeosang’s gentle touch at his side. “No feelings, Yeosang, we can’t risk-” 

“There haven’t been ‘no feelings’ since the beginning!” Yeosang fought, voice sharper than Mingi’s knives. “We’re  _ kidding  _ ourselves, Wooyoung. It’s one thing to try and keep up a front around other people, but acting this scene every time we’re alone-” 

“If we don’t put some sort of cap, it’s never going to work,” Wooyoung hissed. “It’s hard enough to keep ourselves under wraps as it is- can you imagine how it would work out if you’ve got a gun to your head and we’ve already crossed every line we drew?” 

“It’s not going to make a  _ difference _ !” Yeosang’s gentle touch turned to a fist resting at Wooyoung’s side. “You think I’ll be any less terrified at your being threatened  _ now  _ than if you actually said what you  _ felt- _ ” 

Wooyoung slapped a hand over Yeosang’s mouth, chest constricting like it was being crushed from the inside, too terrified of Yeosang accidentally letting the words slip. 

Yeosang glared at him over his hand. 

If they were normal, if they stuck to the script, then Yeosang would lick his hand and Wooyoung would make a fuss, but ultimately suggest a few other things his tongue could do. 

Because that’s what they were. 

Just physical. 

No feelings. 

Feelings were a weakness. Feelings could be used against you. 

Ateez was an eight man army, outrunning and outsmarting the law and gangs ten times their size. They always put themselves where they didn’t belong, and they didn’t care who they pissed off along the way. 

It didn’t matter who got grabbed, who was held at gunpoint, who was snatched and held for ransom- 

Ateez were cool and collected and smart enough to wiggle their way out of any threat. 

So when the inevitable happened and Yeosang was pinned against someone’s chest, a gun pressed to his temple and a brute telling Wooyoung to drop his weapon- 

Wooyoung could not let fear cloud his mind. He could not afford to look at Yeosang and let his heart feel, because if he did, he would hesitate when it came to shooting centimeters beside Yeosang’s face into the brute’s head. 

If he hesitated, the brutes would notice. 

And God help you if anyone realize your weakness in this work. God help Wooyoung if anyone ever even suspect that Yeosang was something more to him than a teammate. 

No. 

Wooyoung could not let that happen. Wooyoung refused to let that happen. 

What Yeosang and he had- there were no feelings attached. Not even whispered in the quiet of their hearts did a single word of it pass. 

Neither could risk each other like this. Wooyoung could not risk Yeosang like that. 

Because when it came down to it and Wooyoung had to shoot through Yeosang’s side to get the brute, he could not hesitate. 

Hesitating would get people killed. 

People special to Wooyoung. People Wooyoung would kill the world for. 

But he did not feel things for them. Not for Yeosang. He couldn’t. 

Yeosang knew this. So did Wooyoung. And it was a perfect plan. If the two of them could just keep it up. 

But it was so fucking hard when Yeosang’s eyes softened in fond annoyance, when his gentle touch laid over Wooyoung’s chest just to feel his pulse, when they crawled into each other’s beds and kissed for a few moments for appearances’ sake but ultimately let it die in favor of simply laying with each other as they fell asleep. 

It was so fucking hard when Yeosang laughed at something Yunho said, and Wooyoung’s heart did an entire tap dance routine. When Yeosang was laying in the make-shift medical room with a bandage wrapped around his side and Wooyoung was torn between running as far away from the sight as possible and refusing to leave his side for fear of what might happen if he did. 

The others knew. 

Of fucking course, they weren’t blind to miss the two of them making out on the couch or sitting in the kitchen with their hands down each other’s pants. 

But Wooyoung knew they just found the two of them pitiable. Making such a big deal about the fact their relationship was just sex and tension relief. No feelings. 

Their expressions often asked Wooyoung how stupid he thought they were. 

And Wooyoung just shrugged, telling them they were seeing things. Unbothered. Because if it bothered him, then they might think it was true. That there was something more. 

And there wasn’t. 

There couldn’t be. 

But sometimes…. Sometimes they got a little too close to an edge. A little too lost. A little too eager. 

And sometimes the sex was a little too slow, a little too quiet aside from whispers of each other’s names. Sometimes their kisses were a little too languid, a little too warm and soft. Their touches were a little too gentle, too caressing, too lovin- 

Sometimes they started out strong- Wooyoung asking for more and Yeosang telling him to beg for it- 

Just pleasure. Nothing else. 

And then something would slowly crack and break (sometimes), and things would slow until there was nothing but Wooyoung holding on as Yeosang moved slow and deep, whispers too gentle as he asked if it was good, and Wooyoung was too eager to tell him how it felt-but it always came out too soft, too genuine- 

Sometimes it got too close to the tip of his tongue. 

Sometimes, Wooyoung was clinging to Yeosang, his name falling from his lips in quiet whispers that were too genuine, and half of it would slip out, and Wooyoung would freeze, and Yeosang would pause, and there would be a moment of panic- 

Wooyoung would drag Yeosang down into a rough kiss when he realized how close they had gotten. Yeosang would fuck him hard enough that Wooyoung could forget the mistakes they almost made. 

And they would return to equilibrium. For a time. 

And then they would begin to drift again. 

They were drifting again. 

“Yeosang-” 

“Just a moment,” Yeosang breathed, hand leaving Wooyoung’s side to wrap around his wrist gently, holding it too softly. Begging. 

Pleasure meant taking. It meant asking once and taking it the rest of the way. 

Yeosang’s eyes were too open, too fragile, and Wooyoung needed to break away, needed to tell Yeosang to get himself together because there was no  _ moment _ . 

A “moment” implied that there was actually something there, and there wasn’t- there couldn’t be- 

Soft lips pressed against his, and Wooyoung sat still as stone, Yeosang kissing a marble statue gently. He didn’t bite or work Wooyoung’s mouth open to claim and take- 

He simply kissed him, slow and warm and something still sweet on his tongue that Wooyoung wanted to drown in- 

_ Fuck _ . 

Wooyoung’s hand betrayed him, jerking forward and drifting to Yeosang’s arm, holding it hard enough to feel, but not enough to bruise like he should. The touch was too gentle. Yeosang’s lips too careful and warm and genuine.

The weight of two months alone suddenly slammed into Wooyoung’s chest as feather-light calloused fingers trailed along his neck, just touching and feeling. 

Two months without his team, without Hongjoong’s scolding or Seonghwa’s nagging or Yunho’s playful punches or San’s whining or Jongho’s flicks that hurt as much as any bullet wound or Mingi’s body slams- 

Or Yeosang. 

Wooyoung had spent two months trying not to think about him, knowing that it would only make the time more agonising, the lie harder to hold up. 

But Yeosang was in front of him again, soft skin over lean muscle, and Wooyoung wanted to just get lost in the person he had been robbed of for so long. 

Wooyoung didn’t mean to break. 

He really, truly, genuinely did not mean to- 

But he blinked and his eyes were closed, arms looped loosely around Yeosang’s neck, pulling him a little closer gently, lips softening under Yeosang until they moved in a slow, languid tandem. 

Wooyoung’s eyes fell closed, leg curling slowly and pulling Yeosang just that much closer, resting at his waist, a slow, simmering flame beginning to flicker in Wooyoung’s veins as Yeosang sighed in relief against his lips. 

Hands grabbed Wooyoung’s hips gently, tugging him forward, as if afraid to bruise, and he wrapped his legs around Yeosang just enough to keep himself aloft as Yeosang moved them away from the dresser. 

Yeosang could carry Wooyoung no problem. But running with an injured body in your arms as you sprinted through the forest was a different story. 

Wooyoung forgot where they were as he slowly licked at Yeosang’s lips, asking for entrance- 

They weren’t supposed to  _ ask-  _

Yeosang placed a hand against the back of Wooyoung’s head to support it as he slowly lowered them onto the bed, as gently and reverently as laying a child in their crib- 

Wooyoung cracked his eyes slowly (just enough that he could close them quickly if he needed to block something out), and found Yeosang’s cinnamon ones peering into his, shattered like hard sugar against a plate. 

“I missed you,” Yeosang breathed, low enough that Wooyoung relied on reading his lips to catch it. “I was scared, Wooyoung- I missed you-” 

There was a jump in Wooyoung’s veins- too close, too close- that told him to jerk Yeosang down and make them forget- 

But instead his body betrayed him again, gentle hands tracing Yeosang’s cheek and guiding him down until Wooyoung pressed his lips against his once more, too warm- 

It was all gentle, and as much as fear tried to make him start taking, to grab and control and force- 

He couldn’t do it. Not when Yeosang’s hands were gently guiding up his stomach, nails just barely scratching the skin enough to make goosebumps erupt along his body, a shiver caught in his spine as his shirt was tugged up and off, tossed somewhere he didn’t care about. 

Yeosang’s followed quickly and then hands were grabbing at the rest of their clothing, skin finally brushing skin, like a breath of air after being suffocated. 

Wooyoung hadn’t realized how much he had missed touch until Yeosang’s was everywhere, making it harder and harder to remember why he ever denied them this. Why had they ever thought that this was something they couldn’t do- 

No. 

Even if it was slow, even if it was soft, it didn’t mean anything, it meant nothing- 

Even as Yeosang’s hand lovingly prepped him, slow and deep and enough to make Wooyoung twist and writhe under him, Yeosang’s expression only softening as he whispered for him to relax. 

It meant nothing. 

Yeosang’s touch meant nothing, the balloon threatening to pop in his chest meant nothing, the ache that reached down to his fingertips that begged him to touch back meant nothing- 

They were nothing. 

It was just sex. 

Just sex as Yeosang’s breaths wet Wooyoung’s neck as Wooyoung’s nail dug into his back, creating little red lines that Yeosang moaned at, their chests vibrating together as Yeosang reached deep and slow inside of Wooyoung, making his toes curl and his back arch- 

There was no desperate cries. No begging for release, no flipping each other in switches of control and gaining the upper hand, no harsh grunts of each other’s names as they simply sought release as quickly as possible- 

There was just Yeosang moving in a smooth rhythm that made Wooyoung bite the back of his hand, eyes squeezing shut as Yeosang’s hand carded through his hair gently, his eyes staring at Wooyoung with lights so bright it fucking hurt- 

His chest heaved, legs locking around Yeosang- not drawing him closer, but just making sure he didn’t pull away. 

“I missed you,” Yeosang breathed heavily against his neck, lips brushing his pulse point and scraping gently beneath his ear, making Wooyoung’s breath stutter. 

It was too close. 

It was as close as they could get. 

Wooyoung’s chest ached, holding Yeosang closer, whispering his name over and over like it was a substitute for what he truly wanted to say. 

When Wooyoung came, it was quietly, face pressed into Yeosang’s shoulder and muttering his name like a mantra. Yeosang followed quickly, arms struggling to keep himself up to not crush Wooyoung, their chests heaving in deep breaths. 

Wooyoung felt good. 

At least- his body did. His mind was panicking as Yeosang dropped beside him on the bed. 

According to the script they were supposed to follow, this was where Yeosang carried him to the bathroom and they would have round two in the shower before parting ways. Or maybe to go make out on the couch until they pissed off Seonghwa enough to part ways. 

Wooyoung didn’t move, struggling to get his breath back that didn’t seem eager to return. 

Yeosang’s forehead pressed to Woyoung’s arm gently, just resting there against the warm skin. 

Wooyoung should follow the script. 

Yeosang glanced up at him, probably asking what his line was, and his expression… 

It was lov- 

It was gentle enough to make Wooyoung scared, to make him panic. But no matter how his mind screamed for him to just tell Yeosang to head to the bathroom, it wouldn’t come. 

Wooyoung rolled over, body heavy and lethargic as he threw an arm over Yeosang’s waist, moving until their legs tangled in their mess and their skin pressed together at every point. He felt Yeosang stiffen, trying to glance at Wooyoung, silently asking what he was doing. 

That was the cycle, the script. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang would break, they would get just a little too close to something that couldn’t exist, and then they got back to reality. It didn’t matter- their “moment” had passed, and they were supposed to get back on track. 

Wooyoung hid his face in Yeosang’s hair, the scent of gunpowder and vanilla overtaking the scent of sex. 

He could feel Yeosang still shifting, still waiting for Wooyoung to break away. 

Wooyoung’s fingers curled against his bare waist, feeling the soft skin and the little line of a scar from a knife two years ago. 

“Just go to sleep,” Wooyoung murmured into his hair, the soft strands tickling his face. “I’m tired.” 

Yeosang shifted enough that Wooyoung thought he was going to follow the script regardless. But there was just an arm thrown over Wooyoung’s waist and a face buried in his bare chest, Yeosang’s breaths tickling his skin. 

Wooyoung lay there and cursed their stupid, weak hearts that didn’t have the strength to do what needed to be done. 


	2. ....The More They Stay The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s quite a bit longer than the first chapter, but any other place to split the two was awful~   
A quick update since I had most of it already set and ready!   
I really enjoyed writing this chapter (Woohoo backstories!!) And I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much!   
Enjoy, and let me know what you thought!   
-SS

Do you know what happens when a pickpocket tries to pickpocket another pickpocket? 

Yeosang and Wooyoung happen. 

Wooyoung met a boy named Chan when he was thirteen. Chan asked him if he wanted to learn how to make some money. Wooyoung preferred wandering the streets to being stuck at home (if you could call it that), so he agreed. 

“It’s simple,” Chan told him, grinning wickedly. “Pick pockets, and half of what you take is yours to keep. The rest goes to my boss.” 

Thirteen year old Wooyoung was vaguely aware of the fact that this was gang activity he was partaking in. But, really, maybe he wouldn’t be so inclined if he didn’t go home to an empty house and an empty fridge every night. 

What did he have to lose?

Wooyoung was apparently pretty slick, according to Chan, who had taught him everything he knew. Smaller than Chan in build, he slipped between people- no one questioning the child running through a crowd and accidentally bumping into people with a call of “Sorry, mister!” as he continued his imaginary chase. 

The thing with Wooyoug, though? He got bored. 

The pickpocket thing got him enough for food that his mom couldn’t bother remembering to buy, even with giving half away. 

But then Wooyoung wondered- if he knew how to do it, why should he give half of it away?

“I’m done,” he told Chan one day, shrugging easily. “I’m bored of this. I’ll see you around, maybe, though.” 

Thirteen year old Wooyoung was so cute. 

Thirteen year old Wooyoung was also rushed to the hospital with several bruised ribs and a bloodied arm after Chan’s boss found him to have a discussion about his departure. 

Thirteen year old Wooyoung was also asked (once he regained consciousness) why his mother wasn’t picking up, and what other people he had who they could call. 

Thirteen year old Wooyoung had no one. 

There was a big thing- police were called, his house was searched, and the police told him he was gonna have to come with them for a while. 

The word “foster home” came out of their mouths, and Wooyoung ran, slipping out in the middle of the night and running down the street. 

There was some festival happening two blocks over, and Wooyoung made his way through the crowd- still bandaged and bruised- grabbing whatever wallet was easiest. 

One bus ticket later, and Wooyoung had already made his first step towards his new life. 

He got stares, but no one wanted to question the teen who looked like he’d just seen the business end of a baseball bat. 

Wooyoung got to the next city, stole another wallet, and didn’t stop until he was six cities over. He slept behind dumpsters and stole whatever money he needed- changing the areas he picked in so no one would recognize him. When he had finished with the city, he moved on. 

He checked a newspaper one day and found out he was fourteen. He moved on to one more city, stepping out to immediately find someone so he could get something to eat. 

And Wooyoung saw a boy staring through a window at some sort of sportshop, looking at a sleek red bicycle with eyes that seemed determined to own it. 

Well, other kids weren’t usually the way Wooyoung went, but he seemed like he was dressed well enough. Better than Wooyoung, at least- and he was distracted by the bike in front of him. 

Wooyoung sauntered over, pretending to be caught up in checking the dirt beneath his nails- 

His shoulder collided with the boy, knocking both of them, and Wooyoung stumbled back, one hand already putting the wallet behind his back. “My bad,” he said in passing, already turning away- 

“Hey!”

A hand snatched his shirt, hauling him back, and Wooyoung whipped around as the boy grabbed his arm, forcing it forward where it held his wallet up. 

Wooyoung had never gotten caught before, the boy looked at him with eyes that looked like they could be quite pretty, but they were cold where they glared at Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung had never gotten caught before. So he panicked. 

And he punched him. 

The boy cried out, head snapping back as Wooyoung’s fist connected with his cheek. 

Wooyoung panicked at his own audacity, tearing his wrist from the boy’s grip and racing off, wallet still clutched in his hand, even if that was the last thing on his mind. People had looked over at the commotion, but Wooyoung shoved passed them, heart pounding as he raced down an alleyway. 

He had never gotten in a fight before. He bumped into people, took their money, and dropped the wallet for them to find later- no confrontation. 

His body still ached in reminder of what Chan’s boss had done, and he ran faster.He ducked into an alley- 

“I said hold on!” 

Wooyoung hadn’t even heard footsteps following him, but suddenly a hand was grabbing his shirt again, tugging him to a stop- 

Wooyoung struggled, trying to shove the hand away desperately- 

“Fucking take it!” He burst, throwing the wallet back at the boy. 

It bounced off his chest, hitting the ground with a hearty thump, and Wooyoung jerked away from the boy, stumbling and hitting his back against the rough brick of the building. The boy moved towards him, and Wooyoung had nowhere to back away to- 

He dropped into a crouch, hands coming up over his head, body tensed and waiting for the first blow, hands shaking only a little at the memory of bones cracking under kicks and punches. 

Wooyoung panted into his knees. And felt no pain. 

He waited another moment before he lifted his head just enough to peer up at the boy who was staring down at Wooyoung, still a few feet away. 

He didn’t look angry anymore. 

He looked sad. 

“I’m not gonna beat you up,” the boy told him, voice heavy. “It’s not even my wallet.” 

Wooyoung swallowed, heart calming minimally. “You- What do you mean?” he demanded weakly, hands falling away from his head. 

The boy shrugged, kicking the wallet over. “It’s not my wallet,” he repeated. “I got it off some guy yesterday. He only had cash in it, so I just kept it.” He glanced Wooyoung over, sighing gently. “I’m not gonna beat you up, I said,” he reiterated, stepping over and holding a hand out to Wooyoung. 

At this distance, Wooyoung could see the growing bruise beneath the boy’s eye- red and beginning to swell slightly. 

Wooyoung swallowed thickly, taking his hand and getting pulled to his feet. He stepped away from the boy who bent over and picked up the wallet. 

“You… stole it?” Wooyoung questioned carefully. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced up at Wooyoung, looking a little challenging. “Got a problem with that? Last I checked, you tried to steal from me, too.” 

“No problem,” Wooyoung said quickly, shaking his head. The boy huffed, looking amused as he glanced Wooyoung over. 

“You’ve been picking for a while, haven’t you?” the boy guessed, but he looked sure of himself. 

Wooyoung glanced down at himself, at the baggy clothes he had gotten from a thrift store with stolen money. They were dirty. “What makes you say that?” he asked anyway. 

The boy cocked an eyebrow. “You look like shit. And you look like you’ve looked like shit for a while, but you’re still alive. You’re good at it, too.” He eyed the wallet curiously, glancing up at Wooyoung. “I didn’t feel you picking me until the last second.” 

There was something that almost sounded impressed in his tone. 

“Where’d you learn to pick?” he asked, jerking his head expectantly. 

Wooyoung looked the boy over. He didn’t seem homeless. And he certainly didn’t have the darkness around him like Chan and the others who were part of the gang. 

“A guy taught me,” Wooyoung said honestly. “I was semi-involved with a gang.” 

The boy hummed, definitely looking impressed. “I’m guessing you tried to leave.” 

“What makes you say that?” Wooyoung challenged. 

“You look like shit.” 

It had been months, there was no way he still looked that bad. 

“Why’d you leave?” the boy asked, stepping forward. Wooyoung noticed a pinkish smudge by his eye that was not on the side Wooyoung hit. “It certainly wasn’t for your fighting skill.” A hand touched the bruise by his eye. 

“Sorry,” Wooyoung muttered, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I panicked. No one’s ever caught me before.” The boy snorted. Wooyoung shrugged. “I got bored,” he said. “I didn’t want to give half of everything away when I could have just kept it all on my own.” He pressed a hand to his side. “I didn’t realize… just how hard it was to leave a gang.” 

The boy snorted. “Yeah, no shit. You’re not too bright, are you?” 

Wooyoung glared, fists curling. “Maybe I’ve never fought someone before, but I’m pretty sure I could beat your scrawny ass!” 

The boy laughed, open and genuine sounding. 

Wooyoung drew up short. It didn’t sound dark. Not malicious. It sounded like laughing. 

“Have you looked at  _ your  _ scrawny ass?” he chuckled, gesturing to Wooyoung. “You look like you’re eleven.” 

“I’m fourteen!” Wooyoung snapped, reconsidering his stance on being apologetic. “You’ve got a fucking baby face- what are you? Twelve?” 

The boy only grinned. “I’m fourteen, too.” He examined Wooyoung for another moment. “I’m Yeosang,” he said, holding a hand out, expression cocky. “You pickpocket pretty good.” 

Wooyoung glared at the hand, trying to decide if he was being mocked. But he took it regardless. His hands were rough, like Wooyoung’s. 

“I’m Wooyoung,” he muttered, still not entirely convinced. “I guess I should be impressed that you noticed.” 

“Where are you staying, Wooyoung?” Yeosang questioned, bringing a hand up to prod at his bruise. 

Wooyoung shrugged, glancing around the little alley they had hidden in. “Whatever place I find. Probably find a cleaner looking back alley. Find a nice dumpster or something.” 

Yeosang stared at him for a moment, eyes softer than they had been a minute ago, and shook his head. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head as they headed further into the alley. “My mom’s not home.” 

Wooyoung stared after Yeosang who stopped, glancing back. “What?” he asked. “You need me to carry you?”

“Didn’t your parents ever warn you about stranger danger?” Wooyoung questioned as he walked after the other who continued his trek down the alleyway. 

“Nah,” Yeosang said, grinning. “My dad was a little too busy buying booze and beating the shit out of me, and my mom didn’t care.” 

Wooyoung’s steps stuttered, staring at the other in utter shock as Yeosang laughed at his expression. 

“What?” Yeosang demanded, shrugging. “Why are you acting like you’re surprised? You can’t tell me you grew up with a silver spoon when you’re standing in front of me like this.” He gestured to Wooyoung’s body, and the other closed his mouth. 

He supposed it wasn’t too different. Wooyoung’s mom was never around, and he’d never even known his dad. 

The walk was quiet and surprisingly quick as they approached a tall apartment complex. It looked pretty rundown, and at least a dozen windows were broken with paper stuffed in them. 

Wooyoung followed Yeosang up to the second floor where he opened a creaky door into a rundown, but definitely cleaner than his own, apartment. 

There was nothing in the living room but a couch, table, and fuzzy TV that played buzzing static. The carpet was stained, and the kitchen looked bare with nothing to separate it from the living area. 

Yeosang lead him straight to one of two doors at the end, entering and not even looking to see if Wooyoung followed. 

Yeosang’s room was just as bare. A bed with no frame sitting on the floor, a small dresser, and a chair that sat against the wall. 

“It’s nice,” Wooyoung says quickly as he glances around. Yeosang turns back quickly, glaring, sharp eyes searching Wooyoung for sarcasm. “I’m not kidding,” Wooyoung said quickly. “Your bed looks nice.” Yeosang still looked suspicious. Wooyoung fidgeted slightly. “I… uh, mostly slept on the couch. It was more comfortable than the bag of springs I had for a mattress.” 

Yeosang’s expression become less defensive as he sighed, gesturing to the bed. “Take a seat.” 

Wooyoung didn’t know how he got here. But suddenly, he was sitting and Yeosang was asking he needed any pain killers or something, and then he got Wooyoung some cereal and watched him eat it quickly. 

(The milk was cold and not expired, which basically made it a luxury to him.) 

“Want some toast with it?” Yeosang asked, looking almost amused as Wooyoung wiped his mouth after drinking the last of his milk. 

Wooyoung got warm toast and butter, and ate that just as quickly, Yeosang passing him a glass of water with ice. “What the hell have you been living on?” Yeosang questioned- the question half-serious and half-lighthearted. 

“Convenience store food,” Wooyoung said, brushing crumbs off his hands, feeling more full than he had in weeks. 

Yeosang snorted. “Take a nap,” he chuckled. “You look like a kid getting back from a long day at school.” 

Wooyoung, however, glanced at the open door of his room. “What about your mom? Won’t she freak?”

“She’s never home,” Yeosang assured him, sitting across from him in that little chair. “And even if she did wander home by some miracle, she wouldn’t care.” 

Wooyoung frowned. “She just leaves you here by yourself?”

Wooyoung didn’t know why he was surprised, given his own mother’s tendencies, but Yeosang house was nicer, not falling apart. He had food in the house, and clothes that actually looked like they fit. 

Shouldn’t his life be better than that?

Yeosang shrugged, spinning in the chair leisurely. “She leaves me plenty of money every couple of weeks,” he said, like that made it better. “But she spends her time sleeping with guys for money after my dad left, so I’m just glad she doesn’t bring them back here.” 

Wooyoung winced, staring at his knees. “That sucks…” 

Yeosang chuckled after being quiet for a moment. “Take a nap, Wooyoung,” he said, drawing his legs up into the chair. “You look like shit.” 

Wooyoung would have refused out of spite, but the air had turned a little awkward, so he nodded. He shifted the covers, climbing under and and resting his head on a lumpy pillow that felt better than any dumpster he had been sleeping behind for months. 

Wooyoung was out like a fucking light. 

It was warm and comfortable- things he hadn’t had in so long- so he almost didn’t even wake up as he felt Yeosang shoving him closer to the wall. He made a vague noise of confusion, but Yeosang hushed him, body sliding in beside Wooyoung. It was dark in the room. 

“Shh,” he hissed quietly. “Go back to sleep- I’m not sleeping on the floor just because you’re here.” 

Wooyoung passed back out, not really caring one way or another. 

Wooyoung never left. 

He kept expecting to, but Yeosang just shrugged and told him that his mom was never home, and this would give Wooyoung a home base of sorts. 

So, Wooyoung would go out, walking long distances to different parts of the city, working his way through people and snagging cash until the afternoon, and then he would walk back, usually reaching Yeosang’s apartment by the time it was dark. 

He would throw his pile of money down on the table, and Yeosang had to laugh. 

“You really know how to work your way through ‘em,” He chuckled. Sometimes it wasn’t actually that much, because stupid people liked using credit cards more than cash, but it was enough.

Yeosang did his own thing, but he usually had a few extra bucks to show for his wanderings. 

Wooyoung frowned as he spun in the little chair, Yeosang counting through his money. “If your mom leaves you plenty of money, why would you pickpocket?” 

Yeosang paused, glancing at him with a gaze that Wooyoung thought looked a little sad. “Bored,” he said easily. “What else is there for me? I’m not going back to fucking school, and there’s not much else to do. I learned how to pickpocket a while ago. It’s fun.” He grinned. 

Wooyoung laughed with him, putting his cash in the little jar that Yeosang gave him. 

Wooyoung never left. 

It was cold as shit, which meant it was harder to pickpocket because people wore so many layers. He and Yeosang were wandering down the street, and Yeosang stopped at the same shop window Wooyoung had picked him in front of. 

He stared at the window, stopping abruptly to stare at the same sleek red bike. Wooyoung paused, frowning. “What is that thing?”

“A bike,” Yeosang replied sarcastically. “The best bike,” he said firmly, fingers pressed against the glass. “That’s what my money’s going towards.” 

Wooyoung snorted. “You want a bike?”

Yeosang removed himself from the window, continuing on their walk. “Well, the ultimate goal is a motorcycle, but I gotta start small.” 

Both of them had those little dreams. They made the days better. 

“You’ve never thought about leaving?” Wooyoung questioned, both of them laying in Yeosang’s bed. “Not once?”

Yeosang shrugged. “It’s not too bad here. Boring, but everything else is fine.” 

Everything was not fine. 

It was almost the end of winter when there was pink notice slip waiting for them on the door when they returned. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung both peered at it. 

“Mrs. Kang,” Wooyoung muttered, eyes scanning. “Due to… failure to pay rent for several months… please pay the backlogged rents by the 1st of next month or your lease contract will be… terminated.” 

His stomach dropped, and Yeosang’s expression was cold as marble as he tore the note down, entering the apartment quickly. 

“Yeosang?” Wooyoung questioned carefully as Yeosang marched to his room. 

Yeosang tore open his closet, grabbing a beat up backpack and ripping it open roughly. “I didn’t think she had actually fucking left,” He hissed, grabbing clothes from his drawers and shoving them inside. “She could have  _ said  _ something,” He snapped, tearing down a few jackets from the closet and tossing two to Wooyoung. “Put those on,” he ordered, returning to his own work. “She could have actually said a fucking word instead of fucking off to  _ God  _ knows where-” 

Yeosang slid on two jackets over each other, looking bulky and stiff as he slid the backpack on. 

“What else?” he asked, turning around. “Your money,” he said. “Grab a bag from the kitchen and put it in there instead. It’ll fit better.” 

Wooyoung was hit with the realization as Yeosang stared at him, that he was running again. 

He couldn’t say he was disappointed. He had liked having somewhere that wasn’t out in the weather, but there was no use in mourning it. 

By evening, they were ladened down with coats and a backpack full to bursting. 

They examined the map of where they wanted to go. Wooyoung had enough that they could choose anywhere. 

“Seoul,” Yeosang said, pointing to the bus route that left in an hour. “It’s big enough for us to get lost in the crowds. There’s plenty of homeless people- there’s got to be placed to tide over.” 

Wooyoung had never been. So he nodded. 

They stayed in Seoul. They had a little set up beneath a bridge with a tent they bought. 

For maybe a week, Wooyoung considered if they should try and get real jobs,but no one would ever be crazy enough to hire two ratty teens who had to shower by sneaking into the local gym. 

They stole enough money to live. Seoul had more cops, the two of them running around like criminals when someone yelled a little too loudly at them within earshot of the boys in blue. 

There were too many cops- they started sticking together when they went out picking, ready to create a distraction at a moment’ notice if something went wrong. 

Time passed. They survived. 

And then Wooyoung was standing at the edge of an ally, the streets dark and lit only with a few lamps along the road, watching Yeosang walk down the street casually. There were only a handful of strangers around. 

Picking at night was more risky, since there was less commotion to get lost in, but it was easier to get away than when there were crowds of people. 

One skinny looking man (Wooyoung figured he was a man, even if his stature made him seem more like a kid) was walking along, a dark overcoat hiding most of his body, and Wooyoung saw Yeosang brush against him- not even knocking into the other as they passed each other. 

Wooyoung grinned, but it was short lived. 

In a flash, the man’s hand was around Yeosang’s wrist, jerking him back, Yeosang crying out in alarm and trying to jerk away. 

Wooyoung was already sprinting, the guy saying something he wasn’t listening close enough to hear. 

When shit started going down hill, they didn’t have the luxury of having finesse. Wooyoung sprinted down the street while Yeosang still struggled against the man’s grip, and barreled straight into the smaller man’s side. 

All three of them went tumbling, but Yeosang jerked his hand free, grabbing Wooyoung by the back of his shirt and dragging him off of the man. Without waiting to see if he was stunned or not, they took off down the street like a couple of bullets. 

“How the fuck did he-” 

“Discuss that later,” Yeosang panted, the wallet still clasped in his hand. “Keep running.” 

Yeosang had always been faster than Wooyoung, even if it was only by a tiny bit of a lead. But that lead was enough that when a body suddenly appeared in front of them in the street, it was Yeosang who crashed into it. 

He slammed into what looked like six feet of muscle, dressed in the same black overcoat of the man they had picked. 

That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?

Wooyoung was already grabbing and steering him down the alley beside them, both of them leaping over trash cans and throwing them in their paths. 

Seoul had become their playground. And they knew every inch of her like the back of their hands. Especially when avoiding people. 

They took a sharp left, squeezing in the cracks between buildings, rushing out into a backroad away from the main road they had been running from- 

They jerked to a stop as a man- shorter than the six foot giant- dressed in another black overcoat stood a few feet away, turning towards them and running at them. 

Their feet slipped as they scrambled in the opposite direction, Wooyoung’s heart beginning to slowly climb to his throat. 

“Why the hell are there so many of them?” he demanded through heavy breaths. 

“I don’t know,” Yeosang panted as they snuck down another alleyway, crossing through the backend and running down yet another street. They glanced back and no men followed them. “Did that guy have friends or something?” he hissed. “Why are they all-” 

A figure suddenly leapt down from a fire escape, landing only inches in front of them. 

Wooyoung very clearly saw a pocket knife clutched in his hands. He shoved Yeosang to the side, the other stumbling past the man, rather than barreling into him. 

Wooyoung, however, slammed into the man’s chest ( _ Fuck-  _ he was huge), a arm coming around him and pinning him there. 

A truly panicked cry left Wooyoung as he thrashed in the man’s grip, waiting for a blade to pierce something- 

There was a resounding crash and Wooyoung managed to shove the man off as he cried out, arms falling loose. 

He stumbled back as Wooyoung saw Yeosang throw down a trash can lid, eyes just as panicked as Wooyoung’s- both of them reaching the same conclusion as they bolted yet again. 

They had apparently stolen from the wrong group of people. 

“Are they a fucking gang or something?” Wooyoung hissed, too afraid of speaking too loudly, fear making his heart pound. 

They slipped away like shadows, despite their franticness. At some point, Yeosang’s hand slid into Wooyoung’s, ensuring they didn’t get separated by any more mysterious figures, their palms sweating where they pressed together. 

They didn’t stop until they were nowhere near the area they had been caught in, slipping through one last space between buildings and ending in a larger back alley, both of them finally stopped, hands braced on their knees, lungs threatening to give out for how hard they panted, sucking in cool air that stung. 

Wooyoung’s head jerked as he looked around the alley- even glancing up above their heads- and found them alone. 

He let his shoulders fall as Yeosang coughed harshly from the sudden running, his eyes a little red as he also glanced around. 

“What the fuck was that?” he breathed around his lungs wheezing. 

Wooyoung shook his head, swallowing. “I don’t know, but we’re never picking from that fucking area again- They were like five of them!” 

“Technically, six.” 

Yeosang and Wooyoung’s shrieks echoed through the alleyway as they jumped back, hands grabbing each other again as a figure suddenly appeared at the mouth of the alley they stood at. 

It was the original guy they had picked- the short one, whose face was still obscured by the darkness around them. 

Wooyoung wasn’t really paying attention to his features, turning to look at the other end, and found one of the massive figures from before blocking the other end. 

Yeosang threw the wallet back at the man as Wooyoung picked up an empty beer bottle laying on the floor. 

Yeosang and he had never needed to fight- especially not someone who looked like they knew what they were doing- but, by God, these men would not take them down without one. 

“Just take it back!” Yeosang snapped, glancing at the end of the alley that was also blocked. “We- We’re sorry, we won’t bother you again, just-” 

The man caught the wallet out of the air, turning it over in delicate seeming fingers. He looked up at them, and Wooyoung’s grip shook slightly on the beer bottle. The man’s face was definitely young- a sharp nose and pointed lips that curled into a crisp smile- 

The man was smiling. Yeosang’s hand squeezed Wooyoung’s hard enough, he also hissed for him to ease up, and the man was chuckling, low and deep in his chest as he turned the wallet over and over in his palms. 

“You lead us on quite a chase,” the man chuckled, holding up the wallet. “And you even managed to actually get my wallet.” There was something almost impressed in his voice, but Wooyoung was still trying to remember how to smash the beer bottle to give them a weapon. 

There were now three figures at the other end of the alley- not advancing, just gathering. 

What the fuck was going  _ on _ ?

The man hummed, head cocking. “You boys know your way around this city,” he said casually. “You almost actually lost us a few times.” He shoved the wallet back in his pocket- two more figures appearing behind him. “That’s something most people only  _ wish  _ they could do.” 

Yeosang glanced at Wooyoung- fear and confusion battling in his clear eyes, silently asking if Wooyoung understood what was happening. 

“What’re your names?” the man asked, taking a step forward. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang stumbled back, Wooyoung instinctively smashing the bottle against the wall and shattering it (almost completely), leaving him with only part of the neck as a defense. 

He held it out in warning, regardless. 

Maybe if he managed to wound one of them, Yeosang could slip by- 

But there were so  _ many  _ of them- 

The man, however, paused his approach, and Wooyoung saw something soften in his expression. 

Something startlingly similar to what Yeosang had looked at him with, when they had first met and Wooyoung cowered before him. 

He spread his hands- almost as if showing he had no weapons- and shook his head. “Believe me, kids, if we wanted to hurt you, we would have already hurt you. We don’t usually waste our time chatting with the people we come after.” 

Wooyoung’s stomach rolled as the guy’s eyes glanced over his and Yeosang’s joined hands, his smile growing- almost amused. 

“I take it you two are partners in crime, then.” 

“What the fuck do you want?” Wooyoung finally managed to demand, holding the shards like they would actually do any good. 

“I just told you- I wanted your names.” He rolled his eyes, pointing his ears, as if asking if they were listening. “It’s usually the polite way to start a conversation.” 

“As if you’d ever give us yours,” Yeosang snapped, glancing at the other end again, as if the men would suddenly disappear. His grip was starting to hurt. 

“Hongjoong,” the man replied without missing a beat, giving a mocking half-bow. “And you are?” 

There was something about the man- Hongjoong. 

It didn’t look like he had any sort of weapon, and his smile and voice said that there was nothing malicious to be afraid of. 

And that only made Wooyoung all the more terrified. Because the most terrifying people- he had learned from Chan- were the ones who didn’t need weapons. 

“Yeosang,” Yeosang finally croaked, flinching slightly when Wooyoung jerked to face him. “And this is Wooyoung.” 

“Are you insane?” Wooyoung hissed, both of them taking a half-step back. 

“You think we have a choice?” Yeosang snapped under his breath, Hongjoong only continuing to look amused. “Does it look they like intend to just let us leave?”

“Actually, you’re free to go after just one more question I have for you,” Hongjoong assured them, chuckling. 

Wooyoung grit his teeth, brave enough to take an aggressive step forward that Yeosang did not release his hand for. “Who the fuck even are you?” he demanded. “Are you some sort of fucking gang?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want to call it that.” 

Wooyoung drew up short at the amused answer, Hongjoong shrugging, looking like an odd taste had invaded his mouth. 

“I don’t like the term ‘gang,’” He said, as if Wooyoung cared. “It sounds so barbaric, doesn’t it, Seonghwa?” He glanced at the man behind him, who just snorted and shook his head as Hongjoong turned back to them. “I like to think we have a little more class than some of the thugs whose only way to make a living is to beat people until they’re weak enough to hand over money that could have been taken since the beginning.” 

Wooyoung’s head was spinning, and he was absolutely sure that he and Yeosang were not leaving this alley alive. 

“But back to the matter at hand,” Hongjoong said, clapping his forehead, as if he kept forgetting what he was talking about. He grinned. “You boys look like you’ve been through a bit of hell.” 

Wooyoung’s teeth gritted as Yeosang glanced down at their clothes- thrift store finds that hadn’t been washed in months, but at least it was better than nothing. They ate pretty well- mostly convenience store foods, so maybe they were a little scrawny, but- 

Wooyoung supposed they probably did look like hell. The years not not necessarily been kind to them, even if they had managed to survive them. 

“So my question to you is quite simple,” Hongjoong said, a hand waving through the air. “I don’t necessarily care where you got the skills you have- the point is that you have them, and you know how to use them well.” He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen bastards crazy enough to come at Mingi with a trash can lid  _ and  _ manage to get away with it.” 

No, he was definitely amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. 

His expression sobered, but remained no less amused. “Our team is pretty small,” Hongjoong said, voice level and stern. “But I’m always looking for crazy bastards with talent. Good talents. Talents that are sharp enough to be useful. And it’s been a long time since I’ve found someone like the two of you.” 

And if Wooyoung were crazy, he’d almost say the glint in the other’s eyes was excited as he glanced over the two of them. 

“Hell- you managed to actually get my wallet, and outrun us for quite a while.” He glanced around, as if asking if anyone else was seeing this. “No one’s been good enough to do that. Maybe you’re just a couple of street rats. Maybe you’re just some kids who got mixed up in the wrong stuff- I’m don’t particularly care. I only want to know one thing.” 

Wooyoung glanced Yeosang whose lip was firmly clasped between his teeth, hard enough to draw blood, and Wooyoung swiped his thumb over the back of his hand- not sure it was really at all comforting, but he wanted to do something instead of staring like an idiot. 

Yeosang half-glanced at him as Hongjoong spread his hands. 

“Care to join us?” 

Yeosang and Wooyoung had decided to pick the actual worst fucking person imaginable. 

Or the best one. Depending on what point of their lives they were at. 

But two boys, living with only themselves and their stolen money beneath a bridge, with several very intimidating figures looming over them, asking them to join a not-quite-gang for their skills… 

They didn’t quite jump at the chance. But there was a tentative agreement- at the promise of shelter, ammenaties, really fucking good pay, and the support of six other people who were absolutely and unequivocally willing to put their lives on the line for them. 

What about that didn’t sound better than running from the cops like a bunch of hooligans? 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were sixteen when they joined Ateez (which hadn’t had a name for itself yet, except within the group of police who handled their crimes). 

And they never looked back. 

Over the course of a year spent in a run-down warehouse on the edge of the city, Wooyoung and Yeosang expanded their skills far beyond picking pockets and scurrying around back alleys like mice. 

The most amusing parts were seeing how each member that surrounded them was different. 

Hongjoong would catch them picking him for fun almost immediately, whereas they were halfway down the hall with Mingi’s phone before he realized it was missing from his hand. 

San cackled with delight each time Wooyoung dropped his wallet into his lap after having held onto it for the past hour without him noticing, and Seonghwa would glare hard enough that Yeosang could only chuckle nervously and promise not to do it again (they always did it again). 

Jongho and Yunho spent a lot of time holed up in their rooms, but they were the physical proof that Yeosang and he could distract and lift even an entire fucking laptop without either of them noticing. Wooyoung had almost been out of the room with Yunoh’s  _ entire  _ desktop monitor. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung weren’t necessarily partners. They didn’t have specific partners within the group. Sometimes he ran with Seonghwa and sometimes Yeosang followed with San when they scoped out buildings- guns that they had been carefully trained to use, a solid weight at their hips. 

But there was an unspoken (and very much spoken) agreement that Yeosang and Wooyoung just worked best together. They didn’t need their in-ears, they didn’t need visual on each other- they had been running and escaping with each other for years, and they knew each other like the back of their hands. 

Even when plans went to shit, they always understood what each other would do to compensate.

They had grown  _ well  _ passed their simple days of picking pockets and snickering as they ran from cops who could never catch them. 

Now, they ran from cops while slipping pieces of precious hard drive into their pockets that held some sort of info that Hongjoong was keen to sell. 

Some of their work was against the government, against the city- but a vast majority of it was against other gangs. 

Gangs leagues larger than their pitiful eight members, but it gave Wooyoung nothing but satisfaction to sneak into their warehouses and slip out with their battle plans without even setting off a single alarm (thanks, Jongho). 

They lived in the warehouse- which was apparently registered under a false name, complete with running water, heating, and nice furniture that had been acquired with money gained through less than legal means. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung had never really cared about legality. They cared about surviving, but they had been surviving for several years now. 

They were ready to start living. 

And live, they did. Wooyoung had thought the thrill of successfully grabbing a wallet and meeting up with Yeosang at their designated area was unparalleled. 

It was nothing to the feeling of racing off together as a mob-house went up in flames behind them, Wooyoung perched behind Yeosang on his bike. 

(Their very first cut of a job was handed to them from Hongjoong, both of their eyes going wide at the amount that was given to them. 

“What are you gonna do with it?” Wooyoung asked Yeosang as they counted it in one of the back rooms. 

Yeosang had simply looked at him with the biggest gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna finally get that motorcycle.” 

It had taken several weeks of practice before Wooyoung trusted him enough to get on with him, but the thrill of racing off at speeds that confounded the legal limit was a high like no other.) 

Wooyoung was living, and Yeosang (along with the others, who had grown alarmingly close to him alarmingly quickly) was living with him. 

And then things changed. 

Things changed nearly a year into their golden life- when Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa were grabbing a new gun prototype from a weapons warehouse, supposedly with no one home. 

And Seonghwa and Wooyoung were facing down five men standing opposite them- the largest one in the middle pinning Yeosang to his chest with an arm across his throat tight enough that Yeosang’s hands were preoccupied trying to pry the massive arm away enough to actually breathe, his feet just barely able to brush the floor. A gun pressed to his temple.

Wooyoung’s gun shook in his grip, his expression as hard as steel as Seonghwa ordered the man to let Yeosang go. 

(“Fuck yeah, another bullseye!” Wooyoung whooped, the smoking hole in the cut out a testament to his skill. 

“Good,” Hongjoong said, observing the hole. “But try doing that when you’ve got a teammate in front of it.” He stood in front of the dummy, blocking a large portion of it. “Can you shoot around me before the enemy shoots me?” 

Wooyoung’s stomach flipped, scanning the small amount of space left around Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong stepped away, walking over and placing a sharp finger to Wooyoung’s forehead. “Think, Wooyoung,” He urged gravely. “When you need to make a call between shooting a teammate and shooting the enemy- you can’t let your hands shake. You can’t hesitate.”) 

Yeosang’s eyes were cracked open as a horrible wheezing sound struggled to get breath into his lungs, and Wooyoung’s hands shook. 

Because Yeosang was scared. Silently begging Wooyoung to get him out of there, and Wooyoung’s hands shook because there were five men and two of them, and one of them could snap Yeosang’s neck in the time it took them to fire a single round- 

Wooyoung didn’t know what to do and Yeosang might die. 

It was the first time that Wooyoung was forced to realize that. That they were not as invincible as he felt. All it took was one man pulling the trigger. 

And Yeosang was gone. 

Seonghwa was still yelling for the man to put him down. 

Wooyoung pulled the trigger, the man’s eyes glancing away to focus on Seonghwa’s yelling. 

There were two seconds of utter chaos- of Yeosang crumbling to the ground, hacking violently as he clutched at his chest. Of Wooyoung immediately firing another shot and Seonghwa quickly firing another three as bullets whizzed past them without making them flinch. 

Five bodies littered the floor, and before the last one had even finished falling, Wooyoung bolted forward, grabbing Yeosang around the waist and dragging him away from the corpses like they might reanimate and try to harm him. 

Seonghwa was already calling in one of the others to come pick them up as he knelt down beside Wooyoung, pushing his hands away from Yeosang and tilting the other’s head back to examine his neck. 

There was no bruising to speak of, but Yeosang winced as Seonghwa prodded at the area, just calmly telling him to keep breathing, a choked off whimper in his throat.

Wooyoung didn’t remember taking his hand, but when Seonghwa helped Yeosang to stand, Wooyoung stood with them, Yeosang’s hand squeezing his against the pain in his neck. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung waited at the entrance while Seonghwa grabbed what they came for.

Yunho and Mingi showed up in a van, Seonghwa telling Yeosang to go lay down in the back on the ride home. Wooyoung immediately followed, sitting in the row in front of him to glance back every now and then. 

Yeosang didn’t sleep, just staring at the ceiling or glancing over to Wooyoung on occasion. 

“Thanks,” Yeosang murmured, voice too harsh and rough to be his. 

Wooyoung’s stomach did an odd flip that felt like missing a step in the dark as he nodded. “Next time, don’t be dumb enough to get caught.” 

And Wooyoung tried to grin through it- he fully intended to carry through the joke- but his voice thickened on the last word, making Yeosang look at him again and Wooyoung quickly turned away, clearing his throat harshly as his stomach hollowed out. 

Wooyoung didn’t turn back around the rest of the ride, staring at Seonghwa who was already on the phone with Hongjoong to talk about whoever had given them their info that the warehouse was deserted. 

Wooyoung helped Yeosang out of the van, but by then, most of the adrenaline had worn off, and he rolled his eyes half-heartedly as he ignored Wooyoung offered hand and jumped down. 

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, even as he offered a small smile, reassuring Wooyoung. 

The three of them met with Hongjoong (Yunho was also present, just to ensure that nothing had been broken or bruised on Yeosang) and reported about everything. Seonghwa glanced pointedly at Wooyoung as he mentioned him firing without any sort of communication of that intent. 

“I saw an opportunity and I took it,” Wooyoung said firmly. There had been a time when any sort of reprimand was enough to send him running, but Wooyoung had been here long enough to know: you followed your gut, and if it paid off, you stuck with it. “The man was distracted by Seonghwa.” 

“His other four buddies were not,” Seonghwa said sharply. There was no anger there. Nothing had gone wrong. But every job they did had a million things that could go wrong- even if none of them did. And they had to ensure that they took every precaution to stay away from the things that could go wrong. 

“You got out this time,” Hongjoong said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll tell you ‘good job’ this time, but next time try and communicate, Wooyoung, got it?”

Wooyoung nodded. That was a given. If he had had an opportunity to communicate this time, he would have done it. But Yeosang had been in danger and there had been no time. 

Hongjoong dismissed them, and told Yeosang to get some rest since Yunho couldn’t find anything detrimental. 

Wooyoung followed Yeosang out, up to his room, both of them entering and closing the door behind them. 

“Well, that was fucking close, huh?” Yeosang said after too long a silence as he got a change of clothes so he could get out of his mission gear. He smiled at Wooyoung, but even Wooyoung could see the strain there. 

Danger was something neither were strangers to. 

Death? That was a different story. Because the cops never shot at petty pickpockets. But Yeosang and Wooyoung were no longer petty pickpockets. They were now involved with organized crime, with gangs and law enforcement who had been told to apprehend them at any cost. 

Those men cared nothing for them or the law. They were going to shoot to kill. 

Wooyoung’s stomach did the weird flip thing again as he stared at his hands, his breathing a little uneven. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung had been running together for two years. They had been a part of Ateez for another year. And yet, somehow, it felt like the threat of losing a lifetime. 

“Wooyoung?”

He glanced up and Yeosang was looking at him funny. His expression almost worried, but mixed with something almost scared. 

“I told you, I’m fine,” he said, tilting his head around as if to prove it. “Like, it was scary as shit, but we all made it, okay?” That weak smile was back. “Don’t go blaming yourself for anything or something like that, alright?” 

Yeosang tried to chuckle, but it fell flat, the air in the room something darker than they had ever experienced together. 

Wooyoung stared at Yeosang and tried to imagine if one of the men had pulled the trigger. 

If Wooyoung had returned with Seonghwa, and they had sent San and Mingi out to do clean up, and Wooyoung had returned to this room and there was no Yeosang to fill it. 

Because that was a very real possibility. 

Yeosang halfway closed the distance between them, shaking his head, clearly trying to salvage their moods. “Wooyoung, come on, you can’t let yourself start obsessing over-” 

Before either of them could blink, Wooyoung’s lips were on Yeosang’s, and Yeosang was making a shocked noise in the back of his mouth that died as quickly as it came. 

Wooyoung’s hands were shaking where they threaded through Yeosang’s hair- feeling soft underneath the grit of the warehouse, and smelling of vanilla under the scent of gunpowder. 

Yeosang’s arms were around Wooyoung’s waist, and for a moment he was shocked that they weren’t shoving him away, but pulling him closer, until their hips were flushed as Yeosang released a breath into his mouth. 

Things changed the first day Wooyoung realized he could lose Yeosang. 

Because that was the day he realized just how much he had to lose. 

He could lose things he hadn’t even realized he had, in the way Yeosang pushed until Wooyoung was pinned between him and the wall- the scare of the job and the aftermath of adrenaline making them tremble as tongues roamed and hands wandered without a word exchanged but gasps and moans of their names. 

Things changed between them after that first scare where they both realized what they could lose. 

No one talked about it, though Wooyoung could tell the first time Hongjoong saw them next that he knew or suspected something. (Their leader was a little too good at times.) Wooyoung didn’t think that they acted any differently, but he could see the other member’s eyes lingering over the two of them for a little too long. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang kept their relationship to their bedrooms- not feeling like being gawked at. 

And Wooyoung didn’t necessarily feel like the others had a right to hear him whisper to Yeosang everything he meant to Wooyoung. 

Because Yeosang had, quite literally, been Wooyoung’s savior. His lifeline. His only companion and, now, something more. Wooyoung had been trusting Yeosang to watch his back for as long as he could remember. 

Three years felt like it was worth more than a lifetime. 

Their arrangement lasted all of two weeks. 

Two weeks of a blissful sort of ignorance where Yeosang and Wooyoung would bid the others good night and then slip into their rooms where they learned and relearned each other from the inside out. 

Neither of them said It. It was much too soon, within people who were much too cynical. 

Wooyoung had never felt It, but he had to imagine it felt pretty fucking close to the hot rock that settled in his chest everytime Yeosang looked up at him through lashes, pulling Wooyoung closer, and gently running hands along his side lazily, as if he had nothing better to do than sit here for forever, memorizing Wooyoung’s body. 

He imagined it felt similar to the flip that his heart did when Yeosang woke up, and his hair was a fucking mess and his voice was deeper than usual, and he would glare at Wooyoung for waking him up so early, but Wooyoung would just him to “stop being a fucking princess” until Yeosang finally sat up. 

Wooyoung would kiss him, and Yeosang would swat at his shoulder in annoyance, even as he was pulling Wooyoung to straddle him, and Wooyoung would know full and well that Seonghwa would come yell at them for being late, but Yeosang was soft and gooey during the mornings, so Wooyoung had to take what he could get when he could get it. 

He imagined it felt close to the stutter in his heartbeat when he walked into the kitchen and Yeosang was doing nothing more than drinking coffee with too much sugar and pouring over the mission plans for next week. Yeosang wouldn’t even look up, but Wooyoung’s entire body went haywire trying to figure out what was causing the reaction. 

He also imagined… that it felt pretty close… to the ice that settled in his veins when he turned around and a man was striking Yeosang over the back of his head, catching him before he could fall. 

Wooyoung’s expression dropped as cold horror settled in his blood- San’s back pressed against his as they looked around for enemies. Mingi was off somewhere trying to get what they came for. 

“ _ Yeosang _ !” 

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to shout. Really, he hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. But his body moved without him thinking. Because that was Yeosang. 

“What’s this?” the man gasped, shifting Yeosang’s limp body around like it was a ragdoll. “Are you scared for him, little man?” he taunted. He glanced at Yeosang, and then back at Wooyoung. “I wonder what you would be willing to give to keep him safe.”

The gun that had been aimed at Wooyoung and San then turned to Yeosang. 

“Wooyoung, do not engage,” he heard Jongho through his earpiece. “Wait for Mingi-  _ Do not engage _ \- he’s playing you.” 

The trigger against his head cocked. Yeosang was limp, expression as peaceful as if he were asleep. Not even knowing what was happening. 

The man suddenly turned and ran, lifting Yeosang like he weighed nothing and disappearing behind some crates as he rushed to the exit. 

Wooyoung didn’t think. 

He ran. 

“Wooyoung!” He heard Jongho and San yell as something shattered behind him. 

He rounded the crates in time to see the man turning to the exit of the warehouse. 

Wooyoung didn’t think.

He shot. 

The bullet caught the man’s side- nonlethal at this angle, but enough to send him to the ground. 

“Wooyoung, get back to San- they’re in the warehouse!” 

The man was groaning as he rolled over, Yeosang fallen beside him. Wooyoung’s heart tore, glancing between the two of them and back the way he had come. 

San could handle himself for another moment- he had to. 

Wooyoung ran to the man, put a bullet in the back of his head, and dragged Yeosang behind the crates to hide him. He wanted to check and ensure that nothing was broken, but he had to tear himself away, running to help San. 

“ _ What the actual fuck was that _ ?”

Hongjoong did not demand. He did not raise his voice. 

This was an exception. 

Wooyoung sat in the chair, Hongjoong and Seonghwa standing before him, looking more pissed off than Wooyoung could ever remember. (No one had ever named Seonghwa as second-in-command, but it was pretty obvious that he was.) 

“You were given explicit orders not to engage!” Hongjoong yelled, Seonghwa doing nothing to attempt to calm him. “You  _ abandoned  _ your partner in the middle of a  _ fucking mission _ , and then did not return to him- even  _ after  _ being ordered to do so- until you fucking  _ felt  _ like it!”

“He had Yeosang!” Wooyoung snapped back, eyes fiery. “Yeosang was unconscious- he couldn’t defend himself- San could!” 

“He wouldn’t kill his ransom. And regardless, you abandoned one teammate for another,” Seonghwa said darkly- not yelling, but almost worse for it. “And I guarantee that had it been San who was knocked unconscious, you would have hesitated before going after him.” 

Wooyoung flinched, still trying to glare, but it… 

It stung two fold. One, that they would think that of Wooyoung. And two… the guilt that Wooyoung couldn’t bring himself to deny it. 

It wasn’t that he cared for Yeosang more. Or that he wanted to leave the others to fend for themselves, but… 

But it was  _ Yeosang _ . Wooyoung and he had sworn from the beginning that they would watch out for each other. 

And Wooyoung… Wooyoung could maybe imagine that he could feel It for Yeosang. 

He had to protect him. (Wasn’t he supposed to protect the others as well?)

“Never again, Wooyoung, do you understand?” Hongjoong ordered, eyes dark and angry and disappointed. “I don’t know if you think you and Yeosang are slick about your relationship-” 

“We-” 

“But it stops  _ now _ , do you hear me?” Hongjoong snapped sharply. “I don’t give a shit about what you two do or what you are, but when you’re on a mission, you are nothing but teammates,  _ got it _ ?” His eyes were more dangerous than the sharpest of Mingi’s knives. “If you’re going to stay on this team, than you work your hardest to keep  _ everyone  _ on this team alive-  _ not  _ just the ones you care more for.” 

Wooyoung wanted to keep fighting. 

But his head fell in shame. 

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t thought, he had just acted without thinking- 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? That was rule #1: Use your fucking head. Wooyoung had practically torn that rule apart. 

“I…” He had no defense for himself. 

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” Seonghwa said, voice low. “But get it straightened out. If you can’t operate within this team while you’re together, then either break up or pack up.” 

Wooyoung’s fists curled. 

As much as Yeosang was special, this team was his family. Both of theirs family. And Wooyoung couldn’t even get mad at the harsh dismissal. 

He had chosen Yeosang over his family. That couldn’t happen. 

“Now, go,” Hongjoong ordered, still seething. “Get it sorted out.” 

Wooyoung rose on numb legs and exited the room without looking at either of them. 

And it was… hard. 

They both knew that mistakes had been made. Yeosang and Wooyoung decided that maybe it was best if they just… took some time apart. 

And every moment of it was agony. 

It solved absolutely nothing. Wooyoung was still keeping half an eye on Yeosang during missions. It didn’t matter if their official title had changed, nothing inside of Wooyoung had. 

Yeosang would be distracted by Wooyoung- following him out of the corner of his eye and almost missing a target or not hearing an order being yelled. 

They both fucked up. 

Hongjoong officially stopped putting them together on missions. 

“You used to work well together, but now you’re too obsessed,” Hongjoong said without prompting and without mercy. “Figure it out, Wooyoung.” 

Yeosang and Wooyoung agreed that leaving the team was not an option. 

Thus began the months long process of Wooyoung training himself to stop thinking about Yeosang, to stop reacting to him everytime he entered a room. To stop broadcasting to every gang member and cop that caught them that he would quite literally do anything to ensure Yeosang’s safety. 

And it worked. Wooyoung got better at shielding himself, at staring down with absolutely cold eyes no matter who was threatened. Time made him cold. Made him flippant and uncaring. 

On the outside. But that was all that was needed. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were put on missions together again, and it was like old times. 

The two of them reading each other like books and never exchanging a word. 

Wooyoung did not even blink when guns were turned on Yeosang, even going so far as to taunt the men, daring them to pull the trigger. 

It didn’t change the way his chest unlocked every time they got out alive. Even if their celebration was nothing more than a fist bump and a cocky grin that used to kisses and more shared in their rooms. 

Another big mission, another success, and Mingi splurged and got enough alcohol for everyone to enjoy. 

(“Isn’t Jongho, like, seven?” Yeosang questioned as Yunho handed him a cup with questionable contents. 

“I’m eighteen!” he snapped. “I turn nineteen in like, a month, shut up.”) 

And Wooyoung felt good about his performance, and he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while, so he indulged. He never liked the feeling of being drunk, but he was happy with a pleasant buzz- enough to still be able to remember in the morning that they managed to convince Hongjoong (who was significantly more drunk) to dance with Yunho. 

“They were both on dance crews before they got into this,” Seonghwa told him when Wooyoung demanded to know when the fuck they learned to do  _ that _ . 

The night was good, but too early, people were tipping from buzzed to drunk. 

Yeosang was leaning against the coffee table, eyes closed and lips parted. 

Wooyoung snorted, hiding it behind his hand. “I’ll put him away,” he volunteered when Mingi started booing Yeosang for being a boring lightweight. 

He grabbed Yeosang’s arm, pulling him to his feet and dragging him up the stairs. He glanced behind him at Yeosang’s half-closed eyes. 

“You’ve never gotten drunk in your life,” Wooyoung snorted, calling his bluff. 

Yeosang blinked, opening eyes that were clear and coherent. “Well, I didn’t feel like explaining that,” he said, words unslurred and gentle. “And Yunho wouldn’t stop trying to make me more drinks. It was self-preservation.” 

Wooyoung released his hand, and Yeosang walked on his own without trouble- probably only one or two drinks in his system from the night- as they reached his door. 

They paused where Wooyoung wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was still grinning at Yeosang’s act. “Well, here-” he said, gesturing to his door. “I saved your ass. Go sleep or something.” 

Yeosang snorted, shoving Wooyoung’s chest. “My fucking hero.” 

Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang’s wrist to keep from stumbling back, still laughing under his breath as he steadied himself. 

Things changed. 

Wooyoung’s hand still circling Yeosang’s wrist, both of them looking up at the same moment, their eyes locking. 

It had been a while since they had been alone when they weren’t on a mission. They no longer spent time in each other’s rooms- only meeting in the public space of the living room or surrounded by the others. 

Wooyoung’s smile faded slowly as Yeosang swallowed quietly. 

Wooyoung could feel his pulse racing through his wrist. Or maybe it was Wooyoung’s pulse. 

Yeosang tried to clear his throat. “Good work today,” he said, voice nothing but a whisper. “On the mission.” 

It was an out. A distraction. A way for them to get back on track. 

Wooyoung wet his lips that felt like all moisture had been sucked from them. Yeosang’s eyes flickered down for only a split moment to follow the movement. 

Both of them moved at once. 

Yeosang was backed against the wall with a thud, Wooyoung’s hands sinking into his hair as Yeosang’s tongue was already curling around his own, both of them moaning in tandem. 

It had been a long fucking time. It was supposed to be longer. 

Their official title had changed. Nothing else within them had. 

“ _ Wooyoung _ ,” Yeosang gasped between kisses, fingertips bruising Wooyoung’s hip as one hand scratched up his stomach, under his shirt. 

Wooyoung shivered, already dropping his head to that spot just beneath Yeosang’s jaw that made his knees buckle. “Fuck,” he breathed against the soft skin he ran his tongue over. “I missed you, Yeosang,  _ fuck- _ ” 

Yeosang dragged him back up, another heated kiss that Wooyoung gave everything into, a knee finding its way between Yeosang’s legs- a broken moan escaping Yeosang as his nails dug into Wooyoung’s hips, head falling back against the wall and chest heaving. 

Both of them froze. 

Wooyoung felt like his heart was slowly shriveling up as Yeosang swallowed, placing a hand against Wooyoung’s chest and beginning to push- barely any pressure there, but Wooyoung followed the gesture. 

They parted, until an arm’s length separated them, but Yeosang’s hand remained against his chest. Wooyoung swallowed, feeling like whatever fire that had been keeping him going had been doused. 

“Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, voice wrecked. His eyes were… Wooyoung looked away from them. “We- We can’t. We’ve already seen-” 

“I know,” Wooyoung croaked, staring at the ground, feeling Yeosang’s hand form into a fist against his chest that shook. 

Wooyoung had missed him, though. 

It didn’t matter what he convinced himself of. Wooyoung was never going to be able to remove what he felt for Yeosang. 

“I missed you,” Yeosang whispered, making Wooyoung look back up. Yeosang’s expression was stiff, trying to remain put together. 

God, they were both a mess. 

“Yeosang-” 

“I don’t want to keep  _ doing  _ this,” Yeosang breathed, withdrawing his hand from Wooyoung’s chest. “I don’t want to keep ignoring you- I don’t want to keep pretending I’m not  _ dying  _ every time you look at me.” 

Wooyoung felt one of Mingi’s knives slowly being inserted into his heart, his jaw tightening to keep his expression from crumbling. 

They couldn’t. 

Because Wooyoung was only putting Yeosang in more danger by feelings things for him. Put the  _ team  _ in more danger. They were only going to make things worse if they let themselves fall back into what they had been. 

“Me, neither,” Wooyoung whispered, hoarse and rough. “But Yeosang… you know we messed up before. We endangered each other and the others.” 

“Yeah, but- but we could change things,” Yeosang fought. “We’re smarter than we were, Wooyoung. We can keep up whatever facade we need to-” His expression twitched. “I just miss you so fucking much, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung would give everything to Yeosang, if he could. 

And Wooyoung was no more immune to him after months of pretended apathy than in the throes of dying for him. 

“Yeosang… we care too much,” Wooyoung hissed, fists clenching. “We can’t- there is no halfway for us, is there?”

Yeosang’s countenance agreed. 

Wooyoung just wanted to fucking hold him again. Wanted to talk to him and laugh with him- all the things they had denied themselves because it meant too much to them. 

They felt too much. 

Wooyoung swallowed, feeling like he was falling in quicksand and trying to decide what branch above him was strong enough to hold him. 

“What-” He glanced at Yeosang who looked as desperate as Wooyoung felt. 

He just wanted to be able to be with him again. 

“What if… we changed?” Wooyoung suggested, feeling like the floor was beginning to tilt. “What if… it didn’t mean anything?” 

Yeosang recoiled slightly. “What does that mean?” 

Wooyoung felt like he was suggesting that they slowly saw off a limb. 

“We… We can’t be together because we feel too much- we care about each other too much,” Wooyoung rasped, guilt and self-hatred filling his lungs. “What if… we didn’t care? If it didn’t mean anything?”

Yeosang stared at him, mouth open in either horror or shock. 

Things had never stopped changing.  _ They  _ had never stopped changing. 

Wooyoung would just have to roll with this, like he always had. 

If it meant that he could have Yeosang in some capacity, it was worth it. Yeosang agreed. 

Wooyoung knew that Hongjoong knew immediately, a warning glare passed to them over the breakfast table the following morning when they entered together. 

It was okay, now, though. Because it didn’t mean anything. 

Hongjoong put them on missions, keeping an eye on them. Nothing went wrong. They were teammates and nothing more. 

And sometimes, when they got back, the two of them would fall into bed together to release the pent up stress and pressure of the mission. 

“I don’t know what the hell the two of you are doing,” Seonghwa said as Wooyoung entered during the morning, a litter of lovebites around his neck and collarbone. “But it’s definitely something weird as shit.” He didn’t even look up from whatever plans he was looking at on his phone. “I’m surprised you two are able to keep your heads straight- it looks like you’re spending more time in that bedroom than you ever did, the last time you were together.” 

Wooyoung forced himself not to tense as he poured a cup of straight coffee, his back to Seonghwa. “We aren’t together.” It tasted more bitter than the sip of black mess he took as he turned around. 

Seonghwa glanced up from his phone finally, frowning. “So you’re expecting me to believe Yunho gave you those?” He asked, gesturing to Wooyoung’s bruised chest. 

Wooyoung took another sip to burn his tongue. “We’re sleeping together,” He said, voice smooth. “But we aren’t together. It’s just sex, you know- tension relief. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Seonghwa frowned deeper. “You expect me to believe it’s just physical?” 

Wooyoung’s grip tightened on the mug as he shrugged, already exiting the room. “Believe what you want. You can ask Yeosang- it doesn’t mean anything.” 

It seemed like no one ever believed them. But it didn’t matter what they believed. 

It didn’t mean anything. 

And soon, Wooyoung was able to convince himself that was all it had ever been. The rush of warm endorphins Yeosang had always given him was nothing more than lust or something. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s gazes became more sad than annoyed, and Wooyoung ignored them. 

Yeosang took a bullet to the arm during a mission, and he only flinched as much as he would if it was anyone. 

Wooyoung broke his leg after being shoved from a catwalk, and Yeosang only looked at him coldly as he held Wooyoung down until Yunho could get there. 

This became their reality. 

Wooyoung had no qualms about pinning Yeosang against the couch where anyone could see. What did it matter? It wasn’t like he was whispering anything that no one else should hear. It wasn’t like they were doing anything intimate. 

It was just sex. Everyone knew what it was. 

It became normal. The others went along with it. Wooyoung and Yeosang were back to being the best team on Ateez. 

And when Yeosang walked into a room, Wooyoung had trained himself not to automatically look up. When Wooyoung spoke, Yeosang’s eyes didn’t immediately seek his eyes out. 

Six years. This was their reality. 

Even if Yeosang and Wooyoung sometimes forgot why they were doing this, they always got back on track. Even if they started to drift. 

The first time they had sex after Wooyoung recovered from his concussion (courtesty of some asshole with a baseball bat), something was different. 

Yeosang was softer. Gentler. Too close, too reminiscent of what they had been for so short a time. 

Yeosang wasn’t shoving Wooyoung’s limbs into position or ordering him into it himself. 

He took Wooyoung’s leg gently and lifted it slowly as his lips trailed soft kisses across Wooyoung’s chest- not sucking and biting, just kissing. 

It made Wooyoung’s toes curl and his heart swell until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than Yeosang- 

And Wooyoung wished it always felt like this. 

Every thrust was slow and even, until Wooyoung was panting and whispering Yeosang’s name under his breath as his hand was grasping for Yeosang’s, both of their fingers interlacing as Wooyoung’s eyes shut tightly against the onslaught of emotion and sensation, so fucking gentle after so long of quick and rough. 

“Yeosang,” he breathed as the heat in his gut coiled tighter. “ _ Yeosang _ , fuck, Yeosang, I love y-” 

Everything stopped as Wooyoung slapped a hand over his mouth, the words dousing him in cold water as he stared up in horror at Yeosang who stared at him as if Wooyoung had just slapped him. 

It wasn’t working. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung had been under no illusion that it was, but this only scared them back into reinforcing the fact that it meant nothing. 

It could never mean anything. 

For their own sake, it could mean nothing. Wooyoung would not his his family- would not risk Yeosang- for this. He could never live with himself if he did. 

Wooyoung was bracing himself against Yeosang’s chest, their rhythm slow and tantalizing as Yeosang’s warm, pale chest heaved beneath his hands, an arm thrown across his eyes and a flush across his cheeks- 

“Wooyoung-  _ Wooyoung- _ ” His hips kicked up, stunning Wooyoung, but nothing compared to the rush of “I lov-” 

Yeosang cut himself off, even as Wooyoung’s hands covered his mouth, both of them staring at each other in horror, as if they had almost crossed a line they could never come back from. 

Yeosang flipped them over, taking control and fucking Wooyoung until he couldn’t think enough to worry about it. 

Sometimes they forgot. But they always got back on track. 

As long as they got back on track, it was okay. 

(They both knew it was never okay.) 

~~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung woke up entirely too warm and comfortable. 

Which meant they had fucked up again. 

Without risking the heartache of looking at Yeosang, he stood, shifting out of his hold, standing on aching legs and exiting the room silently. He didn’t look back to the familiar sight of Yeosang laying among the blanket, naked skin and fluffed hair, the light of morning soft enough to make Wooyoung feel like he could lay for hours and stare at the rise and fall of his chest. 

Wooyoung left. 

He knew Yeosang was awake from the moving around. 

He said nothing. Didn’t even shift in the bed. 

He took a shower in his own room, scrubbing away the remnants of the previous day, watching it run down the drain. He rested his forehead against the cold tile, taking a deep breath of his familiar shampoo. 

This was not good. 

Wooyoung physically slapped his cheeks as he straightened, shaking his head to clear it of the images of last night. 

Two months was a long time. 

And Yeosang was always worth waiting for. 

Which was the issue. You didn’t  _ wait  _ for someone you were only interested in having sex with. You didn’t spend two months thinking of and worrying about them. 

And you certainly didn’t stay the night with them and dream about spending the morning doing nothing but staring at them as they slept peacefully. 

Wooyoung turned off the water quickly, scrubbing his skin with the towel until it hurt, and throwing on whatever clothes he found first, marching from his room. 

He needed a fucking coffee. 

It wasn’t until he was entering into the kitchen that remembered Seonghwa’s obnoxious habit of waking up at ungodly hours. 

Wooyoung walked right passed him and his spreadsheets, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring a cup. 

“It’s been a while since you spent the night in his room,” Seonghwa said over his mug without preamble. “And I mean outside of the two months you’ve been gone.” 

If Wooyoung was less frazzled, less desperate, less off-balance from two months of being away, he would have turned around with a cocky grin and say something about not being able to wait after so long. 

As it was, he froze as he put the pot back, his grip on his cup almost enough that he wished it would shatter. Wished it would give him a distraction. 

He was too tired for this. 

It had been two months, and all he wanted to fucking do was lay in bed with Yeosang for a week. 

_ And this was the issue.  _

“What about it?” Wooyoung asked without turning. He didn’t trust himself to. He stared at the dark ripples in the coffee and took a sip that was way too hot, hoping that the burn would fry his tongue enough he never had to speak again. “Maybe we just spent all night fucking. I have a lot of time to make up for.” 

“You look like shit, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung managed to snort dismissively. “Yeah, I spent two months in  _ prison _ , hyung.” It was easier to be cocky and cool when Seonghwa couldn’t see his eyes. 

“Yeosang looks like shit, too.” 

Wooyoung hadn’t noticed. He shrugged. “Well, I’m sure having a partner stuck in jail for a while would stress anyone out.” 

“I checked in on Yeosang a few weeks after he went radio silent on us,” Seonghwa said quietly, and it was almost enough to make Wooyoung turn around, but if he did, Seonghwa would see everything (as if he didn’t already). “He was holed up in a safehouse trying to find an informant that was close enough to the police to get info on what had happened to you.” 

Wooyoung was glad he hadn’t turned around as his eyes fell closed and then clenched shut tight enough that spots danced in his vision. 

“We had informants on the force, but none of them with high enough access to get information on what was happening to you.” Wooyoung’s coffee was burning his hand but he didn’t even feel it. “Wooyoung… do you understand how fucking distraught Yeosang was? How much he tore himself apart trying to find out what happened to yo-” 

“That’s what partners  _ do _ ,” Wooyoung said, voice harsh and cold because he  _ could not  _ deal with that image in his head- not alongside his own experience of sitting there and trying not to think about Yeosang or what he was doing- he  _ could not  _ handle that right now. “We’d do the same for anyone-” 

“Wooyoung.” 

Oh, God. Seonghwa was using  _ that  _ tone. 

Wooyoung hated that tone. It came up so rarely, it was so easy to forget he was capable of it, but when it did, it punched Wooyoung in the chest. 

It was the tone he used when Seonghwa  _ cared _ . 

Every member of this team was a hardass. All of them. But beneath those work exteriors, they were nerds and dumbasses and idiots and weird. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa wore work more than most of them. Wooyoung knew an underneath-personality existed, but it surfaced so rarely (they weren’t  _ working  _ so rarely) that it was easy to just label Seonghwa as a hardass whose only way to show affection was to hit you over the head when he found out you skipped a meal. 

But Seonghwa- perhaps only second to Hongjoong- cared about every member of this team. 

They were family. 

And when he used that tone- the one that shed away the hardass, and donned the cloak of a concerned hyung, it made everything feel like it was breaking down. 

“You both look like shit because you were both worried sick about each other and killing yourselves over it for  _ two months _ . Why is it impossible for you to admit that?” 

Wooyoung did not turn around, gritting his teeth. 

“Why are you still playing these games?” Seonghwa asked quietly, expectantly. Like he thought Wooyoung had outgrown them. “I understand your reasoning- hell, Hongjoong and I suggested it in the first place, but it would make more sense if you were  _ actually  _ following through on your plan.” 

Wooyoung finally turned around, cup burning his hand where he clenched around it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung,” He said, already striding out of the room, intent on heading out to the porch or something where no one would bother him. 

He made it as far as the doorway. 

“I’m talking about you obviously being in love with Yeosang.” 

And, God, if Wooyoung were stronger and in his right mind, Seonghwa would have kept talking to an empty room. 

But it was two months and Wooyoung just wanted to lay with Yeosang and it was getting too far out of hand  _ way  _ too quickly. He felt frazzled and off balance and everything was just starting to hurt a little too much. 

Wooyoung froze. Not even fully out of the kitchen, he froze like an animal caught in a hunter’s sight. 

“And Yeosang obviously being in love with you. And the fact that you’ve known this for years.” 

He turned slowly, praying that his expression came across as apathetic as he was trying for. 

Seonghwa’s expression said it wasn’t. Wooyoung didn’t care. 

“We aren’t,” Wooyoung said, tongue tasting like ash. “You know that, hyung. It doesn’t mean anything. It  _ can’t  _ mean anything.” 

And Seonghwa’s expression actually softened in pity, which was when Wooyoung knew he needed to leave  _ right now _ . 

“Wooyoung, the two of you have loved each other before you ever met us,” he said, voice too quiet, too sincere- Wooyoung needed a hardass right now, he needed resistance. “Hongjoong and I were talking- this whole setup made sense when you were young and didn’t know what you were doing, but now, it’s just pointless to deny something you’ve been drowning in since-” 

“He means  _ nothing  _ to me!” Wooyoung snapped, heart twisting and turning and breaking in a desperate attempt to save itself. “Maybe we fooled around when we were younger, but it still means  _ nothing _ . He means  _ nothing  _ more to me than any given member of this team. The only difference is that we fuck on the side! That’s all we’ll  _ ever  _ be!” 

Wooyoung wanted to hit himself. The guilt almost choked him, but he spun on his heel, rushing out of the house before Seonghwa could say another word, slamming the door open too hard and slamming it too loudly. 

Wooyoung threw the coffee cup off the porch- just to have a way to vent- and watched it bounce down the dirt drive, spilling coffee as it went. 

It landed near Yeosang’s bike that was still parked there. 

Wooyoung choked back a scream as he dropped into a crouch, fisting his hair and pulling until it hurt, bent over his own knees as he struggled to keep the screams inside his chest. 

He means nothing, it means nothing, he means  _ nothing _ , they were nothing- 

They  _ could never  _ be anything. 

Maybe if he said it enough, he could convince himself of it. You’d think after nine years, it would be easier, but it never was. 

But it had never been this hard. 

Wooyoung had never been apart from him for so long and returned so different. The weight of their situation had never been so heavy against his chest. 

It had never hurt this much. 

He just wanted to hold him. To go back to a time when Wooyoung was free to whisper all the things that Yeosang meant to him, all the things Yeosang had given him, all the things Yeosang made him feel that were unreal and unparalleled. 

Two months without even getting to see or hear him was tearing Wooyoung apart. 

He didn’t hear the door open, nor did he hear boots walking across the porch. But he felt the presence of someone dropping down beside him, a quiet sigh on their lips. They didn’t touch him. 

Wooyoung knew that he should stand. Why would he be out here, about to lose his mind, over someone he was only sleeping with? 

He stayed where he was, too weak to convince himself to move. 

“You two have never convinced anyone of this act, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong’s quiet voice came across. “Least of all yourselves. But you’ve never been quite so visibly miserable before.” 

Wooyoung shoved a hand out, pushing Hongjoong away, who simply caught himself on one hand, straightening himself. 

“Wooyoung… why are you still acting like you have anyone fooled? What you and Yeosang are doing isn’t healthy anymore-”

“Why the fuck does it suddenly matter?” Wooyoung snapped, head jerking up to glare at Hongjoong who was only staring at him with the same softness Seonghwa had, and Wooyoung was ready to bolt off the porch. “If it’s never fooled anyone- why are you suddenly bringing it up?” 

This had been their reality for years, and they suddenly thought things should change?

Hongjoong’s countenance was perfectly controlled- down to the last microexpression. “Because before, you hadn’t gotten out of two months in a police facility, and Yeosang hadn’t been on the verge of losing his goddamn mind waiting for you. All while trying to keep the guise that you weren’t something special.” 

“I’m not,” Wooyoung snapped, just because he could. “You don’t know shit-” 

“I know that from the moment we met the two of you, you were already gone for each other,” Hongjoong snapped, sharp and unforgiving as Wooyoung winced. “I know that two months is a lifetime, and both of you have been looking at each other like you’re waiting for each other to disappear.” 

Wooyoung wanted to shout back, to dispute it- he hadn’t been looking at Yeosang like that, he hadn’t- 

He probably had. 

Because it had been so long, and Wooyoung just wanted to be with Yeosang after  _ so long _ , but he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

Like shoving a plant in the dark and starving it of light, only to leave it in the sun for a moment before shoving it back into the shadows. 

It was cruel. 

Hongjoong looked at him with eyes that were truly pitying. “Wooyoung… everyone in this fucking house knows the truth.  _ Both  _ of you know the truth. So if you know it… why do you think it’ll be any different if you actually act on it?”

“Weren’t  _ you  _ the one who threatened to throw us out if we didn’t change something?” Wooyoung snapped, getting to his feet, running a hand through his hair, tugging at it roughly. 

It meant nothing. It could never mean anything. 

“Wooyoung, you were  _ seventeen _ ,” Hongjoong scoffed, getting to his feet as well, hands shoving in his pockets. “You were dumb and stupid and in love- and that was dangerous for all of us.” His expression stiffened. “You’re both different now. You have been for a long time. You  _ grew up _ . If you were careful, you could-” 

“It’s still the same,” Wooyoung said, blood racing with adrenaline, feeling like he was slowly being backed against a cliff. “You think if I go back to how we were, I wouldn’t jump in front of a bullet for him?” he demanded. 

“You’d  _ still  _ jump in front of a bullet for him,” Hongjoong said firmly. “You  _ have  _ jumped in front of a bullet for him. Same as he has for you.” 

“It’s different-” 

“No, it isn’t, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong broke in sharply. “That’s what I’m confused about- how you could possibly think that admitting it out loud would change anything when you’ve felt it in your heart for years.” 

Wooyoung stared, feeling like anything he said would come out wrong. 

“You love him, Wooyoung. You can admit it.” 

“I don’t love him!” Wooyoung shouted, voice echoing across the fields. “I  _ can’t  _ love him- you  _ know  _ why I can’t!”

“You’re smarter now, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong pointed out sternly, like he was trying to drill this into place. “Smart enough not to broadcast to an opponent that you would die for Yeosang in a different way than you would die for any of us. You’ve been doing that for years now.” 

Wooyoung felt like they were running in circles, and he had no time to slow down or he’d be thrown out of balance. 

“I haven’t-” 

“You’ve loved him this entire time- stop lying about that,” Hongjoong snapped, looking fed up. “And if you’ve managed to not get either of you killed, or anyone else for that matter, then I fail to see where your issue arises. Actually saying it within the privacy of our base isn’t going to  _ change  _ anything because it’s no different than what you’ve been doing inside your heart for  _ years _ , Wooyoung. There’s no  _ difference _ .” 

But there was because Wooyoung had convinced himself that he didn’t love Yeosang, that he couldn’t love Yeosang, it was too dangerous to love Yeosang- 

Even if they kept making those mistakes where they would… forget that they didn’t love each other. Even if those mistakes kept happening, and even if it felt like Wooyoung was swallowing a stone each time he swallowed down Those Words- 

If you convince yourself of something enough, it starts to become true inside your mind, even if you’ve never believed it once in your life. 

Wooyoung couldn’t love Yeosang. Because that was a weakness, it could be used against them, Yeosang could be targeted- 

Yeosang could be hurt. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you into making yourselves miserable, all those years ago,” Hongjoong said, voice softening around the edges, becoming almost regretful. “I was trying to look out for our team- and I don’t take back what I said, but I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how much what you decided on was hurting you. I’m sorry I only thought to bring it up now.” 

Wooyoung shook his head sharply, trying to clear it, trying to shake Hongjoong’s voice out. “It doesn’t hurt-” 

“Tell me you aren’t miserable, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong said, hands placed squarely on his hips. “Tell me that you aren’t miserable- that you haven’t been miserable- trying look Yeosang in the eyes and tell him you don’t love him.” 

Wooyoung wanted to flinch away, but he felt like he couldn’t move without being shot.

“It’s what we have to do,” Wooyoung fought, everything so rote and practiced that he didn’t even feel the pain anymore. 

(That was a lie.) 

“No, it’s what you  _ had  _ to do,” Hongjoong said sharply, pinning Wooyoung in place with a glare. “Back when you were both young and didn’t know how to separate your lives. You can’t tell me that you would make the same dumb mistakes now that you did then.” 

Wooyoung had grown and changed a lot since those first days. Mostly for the better. Enough so that Wooyoung barely recognized himself. He trusted himself more. 

But he still couldn’t trust himself with Yeosang. 

They were better, smarter, faster, more skilled… but was it enough?

It could never be enough, could it?

Wooyoung knew he and Yeosang had been kidding themselves. There’s not a goddamn fool in the entire world who would believe their lies. Not even themselves. 

All they had been doing was hurting themselves while boasting about how much they didn’t feel. 

Wooyoung’s heart clenched as he turned away, gritting his teeth against another wave of guilt. 

He thought he was strong enough, but did he trust himself enough? Hongjoong apparently did. 

Had he really been making both of them- making  _ Yeosang-  _ miserable and practically taunting themselves with something they could have been having? 

Wooyoung hadn’t known they could have it. 

He didn’t  _ blame  _ Hongjoong- he had been right to do that to them. He and Yeosang were too wild back then. They needed to be corralled. But when did they reach the point that they were good enough? At what point did they become skilled enough to survive each other? 

No one could have ever seen that point, save for years down the line. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said quietly, a gentle hand coming and touching Wooyoung’s shoulder. “I scared you into thinking it was something you could never have. And I’m sorry for that. I should have said something a long time ago. It’s just never been as obvious how much it’s killing both of you, as it is now.” 

Wooyoung wanted to jerk his shoulder away, but he only clenched his fists, teeth aching. “You can’t honestly be telling me to drop the act?” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at Hongjoong, expression heavy. “To just… stop pretending?” 

How could Hongjoong be so sure that their act hadn’t already killed something inside of them? Maybe they were broken now. Maybe they forgot how to love. 

But Hongjoong nodded like it should be obvious. The breeze through the porch was warm, carrying the scent of dirt and greenery. 

I’m telling you to let go, Wooyoung,” he said firmly. He waved a hand carelessly. “Fucking go off the deep end, and do everything your heart tells you- I don’t give a fuck.” His hand dropped back to his side, sobering. “And if I feel the need to, I’ll tell you back the fuck off and go back.” 

Wooyoung tried to imagine if he actually stopped pretending. If he and Yeosang finally got the courage to whisper what they felt. If Wooyoung finally allowed himself to release years of stopping themselves and almost shitting himself for fear of how much he still cared- 

And then tried to return to this hell. 

If Hongjoong did that to him, Wooyoung didn’t think he would ever have the capacity to forgive his leader. 

Not after shoving them back into that freedom and then tearing it away. 

“Why would do something so cruel?” Wooyoung hissed, his heart aching at the very thought of it. At the thought of having to tell Yeosang a second time they would need to change. That they meant nothing. 

Having to see the light in his eyes die for a second time. 

“Why would ever try to do something like that?” Wooyoung demanded. “Why would you push so hard for us to admit it, and then try to take it away?” he hissed. “You’d be better off telling me to kill him myself-  _ I won’t do that to him again _ !” 

Never again. He couldn’t. 

Hongjoong looked at him without mercy. “Because I know that this time I won’t need to.” 

But could Wooyoung trust that? Could he trust them to return to how it was- to act in a way that wouldn’t cause Hongjoong to step in again? 

Was he willing to risk their future on the fact that they could protect each other effectively? 

This was not Wooyoung’s choice. 

Wooyoung already knew his choice. Had always known what his choice would be, even as he trembled in fear from it.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said, voice quiet and low as he turned to the other with heavy eyes. “I won’t hurt him again- not like I did before,” he warned. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what that meant. Yeosang and he wouldn’t leave now, anymore than they would leave years ago. But if they decided to risk it… Wooyoung would not be able to lie to Yeosang anymore. 

He could not claim that they were nothing. He wouldn’t let himself do that to him. 

Never again. 

He could never be that source of pain to Yeosang again. 

Hongjoong simply nodded. “If you play your cards right, you won’t need to.” 

Wooyoung had learned not to rely on optimism too heavily. He stood as stiff as stone as Hongjoong wait a moment to see if he had anything to say. 

His lips pressed together as Wooyoung felt his tongue grow heavy. 

He just wanted Yeosang. That was all he had ever wanted. He wanted him so badly, he had been willing to give up everything just to stay close with him, but he was tired of the lies and the pain. 

He was tired of hurting him. 

That, more than any fear, was what made Wooyoung move. 

Even if meant they risked everything, he couldn’t keep hurting Yeosang. 

He turned away from Hongjoong, opening the door and letting it shut behind him without looking back. 

Despite the blessing given, it gave Wooyoung no comfort as he entered the living room, finding San and Yeosang examining a map. 

San glanced up when he entered, Yeosang looking up a second later when Wooyoung stood there silently. 

“We need to talk,” he said quietly, looking at Yeosang. 

At any other given moment, San might have snickered and let out a long “Oooohh.” But he seemed to read the mood of the room and remained quiet as Yeosang silently lifted an eyebrow, asking a question of “Why?” 

Wooyoung simply turned away, walking out of the room. Regardless of the secretiveness, he heard Yeosang following him up the stairs and into Wooyoung’s room. 

Wooyoung shut the door behind him, locking it as well. He leaned against it for a moment, trying to gather his wits and stop his hands from shaking. 

“Well, if you wanted alone time, I’m sure San would have gotten the hint once your hands were down my pants.” 

It was a familiar banter, but Wooyoung flinched as if Yeosang had suddenly screamed. 

He finally turned away from the door, and something on his face made Yeosang’s practiced smirk fade away like a breath dispersing dandelion seeds into the wind. 

Wooyoung could see the clear war in his eyes- the true desire to ask what was wrong, and their practiced desire to remain aloof to things as trivial as mood swings. 

Yeosang was trying so hard to stay in character. 

Wooyoung hated that they had ever created a world where they needed to play a part. 

“Hongjoong and I were talking,” Wooyoung said quietly, still leaning against the door. “Seonghwa, too, I guess, to an extent…” 

Yeosang’s expression was braced for something, already prepared for some form of rejection or something to start a fight. “Okay,” he replied quietly, clearly asking Wooyoung to go on. 

Wooyoung swallowed, letting the door take some of his weight. 

He felt like such a hypocrite. 

“Hongjoong thinks that we’ve grown enough that we don’t have to pretend anymore,” Wooyoung muttered, not able to meet Yeosang’s eyes. “They brought it up and after a long-winded argument, Hongjoong thinks that we could be free to act as we pleased because it’s no different than how we’ve always been acting, just without the lies.” 

There was a heavy silence. “So, basically, the exact same thing I’ve been trying to convince you with for years.” 

Wooyoung winced. The statement wasn’t angry, but it was sharp, and when he looked up, Yeosang was staring at him with eyes akin to betrayal. And some anger. 

Wooyoung didn’t… regret what they had to do to protect each other and their team. But he hated it with every part of himself. 

“Yeosang-” 

“I’ve been begging you for  _ years _ , Wooyoung,” Yeosang snapped, taking a harsh step forward. “You’ve been begging for  _ years-  _ we’ve made so many slip ups that we’ve just shoved aside, we’ve said so many things that made everything we did  _ completely  _ obsolete- And  _ now  _ is when you finally decide that  _ maybe  _ we weren’t being as slick as we thought we were?” he demanded, voice wavering slightly. 

Wooyoung hoped to God it didn’t break. 

“I was  _ scared _ , Yeosang,” he tried to say in his defense that was as weak as a wet piece of paper against a sword. “I couldn’t risk you like that,” he said sharply, fists clenching. “I couldn’t let something  _ I  _ did get you hurt-” 

“And you think the past years have been  _ peachy _ ?” Yeosang snapped, the darkness in his eyes twisting and pinching. “That they hurt less than what we could have risked?” 

“At least you were  _ here _ , even if we were miserable!” Wooyoung burst, finally stepping away from the door, heart twisting. “Even if everything was shit- I was trying to make sure I didn’t lose you! And even if I  _ hated  _ myself every time I had to act like you were  _ nothing  _ to me _ \-  _ every time I had to  _ actively  _ try to convince someone that you were not the  _ only  _ fucking person on this earth I had ever loved-” 

Wooyoung’s voice cut off, whether habit or emotion, and he stared at Yeosang’s eyes that looked as turbulent and dangerous as the sea in a storm, threatening to drag Wooyoung under the moment he lost his footing. 

At the same time, his eyes were the lighthouse that Wooyoung latched onto to ground himself. 

“Even if spent my life  _ hating  _ it… hating the fact that I had to look you in the eyes-” He clenched his fist, eyes stinging as waves crashed against him. “I had to look you in the eyes and tell you I didn’t care, that I felt nothing-” He took a sharp breath. “When that is farthest fucking thing from the truth.” 

Yeosang’s jaw worked stiffly, clouds darkening his eyes. “I know it is,” he said, voice low and withdrawn. “We both knew what we were to each other, Wooyoung, we’ve  _ always  _ known. So  _ why  _ did we have to act? Who were we trying to fool?” he demanded, though the anger was weakening. 

“I can’t  _ lose you _ , Yeosang,” Wooyoung hissed, closing the distance between them until his hand grabbed Yeosang’s that was colder than it usually was. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let us admit to everything, and then a mistake that  _ I  _ made got you hurt or  _ worse- _ ” 

They had both convinced themselves of the things that could go wrong so wholly, that it was all they could see. 

“Even though I was hurting you in different way the whole time,” Wooyoung murmured thickly. 

That fear was the reason that Yeosang had never pushed so hard for them to break away from their act. Because he knew the merit behind it, the risk- even if it seemed so useless in the grand scheme of things. 

“I was scared, Yeosang, I still am,” he said, voice wavering. Yeosang’s hand twitching inside his. “Hongjoong had said that if things went downhill again, he’ll intervene again, but I can’t  _ do  _ that to you again- I  _ can’t _ .” 

Yeosang’s expression shifted- his brows drawing down in slight confusion. It looked like sunlight trying to break through storm clouds. 

Wooyoung shook his head sharply. “I  _ refuse  _ to lie to you twice,” he whispered harshly, the thought of it making his stomach curl. “I can’t do that to you again- if we did this, we would have to find a way to make it work because I  _ cannot  _ do this to you again, Yeosang- I can’t  _ stand it _ .” 

How Wooyoung had lasted years, killing them over and over in the same way, shoving their feelings and truth into the darkness, he couldn’t fathom. 

But he wanted it to change. 

Yeosang’s anger diluted with something softer, scanning Wooyoung’s face. “So you’re actually considering this?” he asked hoarsely. “You’d actually stop this stupid act?” 

If Wooyoung had been smarter, they would have stopped this years ago in a heartbeat. 

Wooyoung wet his lips, wanting to look away but knowing that he owed Yeosang more than that. He stared at crystalline eyes that held him in place and demanded answers. 

Yeosang had always been that captivating, if Wooyoung let himself sit still long enough. It’s why he had been so afraid to look at him when he lied. 

“Hongjoong believes that we’re smart enough to operate however we want and not endanger ourselves. I honest to God cannot say whether I believe him or not,” Wooyoung murmured. “I don’t know if things really won’t change or if it’ll be another mistake. But I know…” 

His tongue felt heavy. 

Two months. 

“I know that I was gone from you for two months, and it was the worst experience of my life, and everything inside of me has wanted nothing more than to grab you and never let go since I got back.” His voice was dropping lower and lower, until he wasn’t sure Yeosang could even hear him. 

But Yeosang’s hand squeezed his gently, and Wooyoung felt a flood of warmth from the contact point running through his veins. 

Yeosang had been by his side since they were  _ teenagers _ . 

“And I tried to stop myself, I tried to reason with myself, but I’ve missed you so  _ fucking  _ much,” Wooyoung breathed, looking up at Yeosang who seemed to have perfected his acting suddenly, making it seem like he was staring a statue. “I don’t want us to keep hurting- not after we spent two months hurting worse than ever.” 

Wooyoung couldn’t keep hurting Yeosang. 

If they stayed the way they were, Yeosang would definitely hurt regardless. If they went back to how they were… there was only a  _ chance  _ at getting hurt, if they messed up. But that hurt held a lot more at stake. 

There was no right answer. 

“I’ve made my decision… but I want to know yours,” Wooyoung said, not quite able to meet Yeosang’s eyes that stared at him like a physical weight pinning him down. “I’ll follow whatever you want, but I can’t keep hurting you, Yeosang.” His shoulders fell, as if giving up. “I’ve done enough of that.” 

Yeosang was right. Regardless of what Wooyoung had been convinced he was protecting them from, he was hurting them almost worse than any other mistake could ever threaten them with. 

They were both smart enough to protect themselves, now. They had to be. 

Yeosang’s silence lasted a moment too long, Wooyoung glancing up, waiting for Yeosang to brush passed him and walk out. 

But he was just standing there. Watching Wooyoung. The storm having died until there was nothing but dark waters as smooth as glass. 

“Do you honestly think,” Yeosang muttered, voice low and quiet. “That would ever be a point in this world that you offered me that… and I would refuse?” 

Wooyoung’s heart punched in, his lungs collapsing as his muscles tried to give out. 

Yeosang took a step that almost had them standing chest to chest. “Do you honestly think that I would spend  _ years  _ begging for this and then say no when we finally figured our shit out enough to accept it?” he demanded. 

Wooyoung had to tilt his head back only a little bit to keep Yeosang’s gaze. 

There were lights shining back at Wooyoung- like sun rays breaking through dark clouds after so long of being lost in a storm. 

He swallowed, Yeosang’s eyes always borderline too intense for Wooyoung to hold on to. “If something goes wrong, I will never forgive myself, Yeosang,” he whispered. “I’m telling you this now.” 

If Yeosang was hurt or worse… Wooyoung was sure that his world would slowly begin to collapse. 

“If anyone ever finds out about us, we kill them,” Yeosang said simply, leaning forward until their noses were brushing and his chest pressed to Wooyoung’s. A hand cupped the back of Wooyoung’s head gently, fingers dragging through the long hairs there. “If it means we get this, I’ll kill off the entire  _ city  _ to keep us safe,” Yeosang whispered with all the conviction of a sniper’s dot on a target’s head. 

Wooyoung’s heart was slowly twisting itself, tighter and tighter until it felt like it would snap. 

He would protect Yeosang. He would not let him be harmed- by Wooyoung’s actions or anyone else’s. 

If he had done this for years, he could keep doing it now. 

When his heart finally snapped, Wooyoung pulled Yeosang down against him. Yeosang kept Wooyoung pinned against him by the hand on the back of his head. 

It was strange, as Yeosang guided them away from the door, lips moving over each other’s in a smooth, steady rhythm that hypnotized. It was an odd mixture of the gentleness that Wooyoung had learned to fear and the desperation they had made their norm. 

Wooyoung’s legs hit the bed, and the two of them went tumbling, their limbs tangling as Wooyoung moved back and Yeosang moved after him, refusing to part for even a moment as the taste of sugar and coffee mingled on their tongues. 

“ _ I love you _ .” 

It was Yeosang who pushed the words between them first as his hands trailed up Wooyoung’s stomach, pushing his shirt up to his chest and tracing his nails across the smooth, exposed skin. 

Yeosang didn’t stop himself from saying it. 

For the first time in almost a decade, he didn’t stop himself. 

Wooyoung had been yelling and screaming and crying the words for the majority of his life, deep within his chest where they could never escape. 

He could… say it now. 

“I love you,” he breathed as he pulled Yeosang’s solid weight down against him, both of their hands fumbling to get rid of all the clothes between them, Wooyoung just wanting to  _ touch him _ . 

The first whisper he managed was enough to punch the air from his lungs. 

When there was nothing but skin and more whispered of each other’s names and “I love you”s that were numbing their lips, Wooyoung pushed Yeosang down, straddling him and kissing him deep, hands braced against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath his fingertips. 

Wooyoung felt his heartbeat, and he memorized all the patterns that he had been too afraid to feel. 

For the first time in years, Wooyoung let himself admire. He let himself feel and explore and coax- 

He let himself love. 

He didn’t avoid Yeosang’s gaze, afraid of what it might ignite inside of him. Afraid of what it might mean. 

Wooyoung felt his heart expand as Yeosang looked at him with lights in his eyes, and he let himself get  _ drunk  _ on the feeling. 

From his perch, his hands trailed wherever they could reach, and Wooyoung drank in every sight and sound Yeosang created- the flush to his skin, the half-cut off moans and whines he caught in his throat, the twitch and jump of his muscles where Wooyoung brushed, the break to his voice as he whispered Wooyoung’s name as an interval between Those Words. 

Wooyoung saw and reveled in all of it. Without guilt. Without fear. 

He spelled Those Words into Yeosang’s skin, breathing them to life and writing them with his hands and tongue as Yeosang’s chest heaved beneath him. 

“ _ Wooyoung- _ ” 

“I love you, Yeosang,” Wooyoung breathed, skin sliding against skin as finally got tired of it and shoved him over, laying over him and attacking with his lips as he prepped Wooyoung so slowly, Wooyoung felt like he was going to lose his mind. 

It felt like a dream. Something so strange inserting itself where something normal had permeated. It felt like something Wooyoung would wake up from. 

Something he might live to regret. 

He could never regret loving Yeosang. Never, never,  _ never-  _

When Yeosang finally pushed in, Wooyoung could feel everything they had never said spilling over his lips- everything, from Those Words, to every moan and gasp and cry that he had been too afraid of giving meaning to. 

Wooyoung was not afraid anymore- he wanted to ink the all the words he never said into Yeosang’s skin to make up for years and years of lies and pain that he had inflicted. 

Wooyoung writhed as his hands touched whatever part of Yeosang he could reach, their bodies moving in a tandem that made them seem as one- Wooyoung’s moans broken apart by cries of Yeosang’s name, nails digging in as he tried to speak around pleasure, gasping “I love you” over and over until his tongue got clumsy over it. 

There was another moment- where Wooyoung felt and heard and saw nothing but Yeosang staring down at him, eyes crystal clear and misty where they bore into Wooyoung like the gentlest breeze against his skin. 

Wooyoung felt like the gaze was burning him, making him want to look away, but he held onto it- the sensation as if it were the first, but it was only one of hundreds that they had been too afraid to realize. 

When Wooyoung managed to breathe a quiet “Yeosang- Yeosang- I’m close-” Yeosang’s only response was a gentle hand against Wooyoung’s face, thumb tracing as he stared at Wooyoung with eyes that had loved for a decade. 

Wooyoung came with Yeosang, and when the shudders and whited-out pleasure had faded, there was just the two of them laying beside each other, arms laid over waists and heads resting against chests. 

There was a peace that neither of them had allowed themselves to feel. 

One Wooyoung hadn’t felt since before they got scared. 

One that Wooyoung grabbed onto with both hands and held tightly, daring it to try and escape him after he had decided to protect it. 

“ _ I love you. _ ” It was whispered into the air and traced into skin and passed back and forth between the two of them in ways that it should have been for a decade. 

Wooyoung should have been saying it for a decade. 

He should have never made Yeosang spend a day thinking that it wasn’t true- he should have never made a world where he tried to pretend it wasn’t true. 

He wanted to yell it. To scream it into the air until the entire fucking world knew that it had all been act. That not a day had gone by that he had not loved Yeosang with everything he was. 

That not a day had passed without Wooyoung living with the regret of not saying it. With the regret of lying to Yeosang day after  _ day _ . 

He had spent so much time with those ugly, twisted, bitter lies of self-reservation. 

He wanted to erase each of them from Yeosang’s memory- scrub them free with whispers of everything Yeosang had always meant to him and more. 

Yeosang traced patterns into his hip, light enough to tickle. 

Wooyoung trailed his fingers up and down Yeosang’s spine, feeling every ridge and bump that he had long since memorized. 

The heavy blanket of hazy afternoon settled over them. 

What they had always done was to get up, clean up, and part ways. 

Wooyoung had no intention of leaving. 

If he had his way, he would never let Yeosang go for another second. 

But for now, he would settle with having their time until Yunho came to bug them about dinner. 

It felt like he had been transported back. Like Yeosang and he were still seventeen and Wooyoung was too eager to have something he actually cared for. 

When Wooyoung had nothing to fear and would spend the entire night pressed against Yeosang, murmuring quietly into his shoulder until Yeosang told him to shut up and tried to smother him with a pillow.

Wooyoung had missed when loving Yeosang was easy. 

But somehow, it had never been easier. 

Wooyoung didn’t feel guilt as he traced words into Yeosang’s back. Didn’t feel fear as he let himself get lost in Yeosang as warm eyes met tired ones, and Wooyong  _ did not flinch away _ . 

Wooyoung drowned in him. Let him fill his senses and run between every crack of his body and permeate every inch of his heart until it felt like he had never had a reason to fear. 

They were  _ smart  _ enough now, he tried to be confident. They were good enough now. He and Yeosang had gotten out of tighter spots than anything their secret could place them in. 

Wooyoung would kill and die and bleed to keep Yeosang safe- and that had never changed, no matter what they tried to show the world. 

If it meant that Yeosang never doubted again, Wooyoung would take that chance. 

Yeosang was worth a million chances and a million risks- 

Because Wooyoung had spent a decade of his life protecting Yeosang, and that wasn’t going to change, even if he spelled out his love in sky writing for every fucking gang in Seoul to read. 

Wooyoung had killed to keep Yeosang safe, and he would do it again. 

He had been so afraid of losing Yeosang, he had forgotten everything they had already survived. 

(Yeosang began lazily sucking bruises into Wooyoung’s neck until Wooyoung swatted him away because it was starting to hurt. Yeosang laughed in a quiet voice that Wooyoung hadn’t heard in such a pure form in years. It made him squeeze Yeosang’s side, just to hear it again, even if it came with Yeosang pinching his leg.) 

(The teasing devolved into kissing that made Wooyoung feel like he would never need to breathe again. And then they were falling deeper again- slower this time, like they were trying to burn the images of each other into their skin. Wooyoung felt Yeosang, and he basked in him unashamedly like a plant finally drinking in sunlight in the form of Yeosang laughing at Wooyoung’s squeak when Yeosang suddenly wrapped a hand around him.) 

(Wooyoung had spent so long lying, he held nothing back when Yeosang whispered for Wooyoung to just let go.) 

(And then, once more, they were tangled in each other, too tired and content to move, and Wooyoung just stared at Yeosang who looked like he was struggling not to fall asleep as Wooyoung ran a hand through his hair again and again, letting himself  _ feel  _ for the first time (it was not the first time) in  _ so fucking long _ .) 

The sunlight laid over them like a blanket, reflecting off of smooth, pale skin that Wooyoung traced a hand over every inch of, memorizing each spot in a new way, committing every curve and plane to memory, even when Yeosang started complaining that it tickled. 

Looking at it now, the risk was worth it if it meant that Yeosang would smile at him gently as he did now. Warm and blissful and loving. 

Everything about it was the same- as it had always been- but it felt a million ways different as Wooyoung finally let himself look at Yeosang and  _ realize _ . 

His gaze was  _ loving _ , as it had always been. 

His touch was  _ loving _ , as it had always been. 

Their words were  _ loving _ , as they had always been. 

They were in  _ love _ , as they had always been.

Nothing had ever changed. Not in all their acts and pretending. 

Not once in all the lies and fear they had worked so hard to keep up with. 

Nothing had ever really changed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this!   
I hope you enjoyed it, so feel free to yell about it!   
I am pretty sure about what my next work will be, but I’m trying to get some things sorted with it before I really begin, so I’m not sure when it’ll be up!   
But I’ll see you all in my next work!   
-SS

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the next chapter will be much longer (I wanted to post 30k at once, but I figured that was too cruel lol)   
Hopefully it’s not too confusing, but let me know what you thought!   
I have a twitter and CC with @_SinisterSound_ so feel free to hit me up!   
Have a lovely day!   
-SS


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